


First Impressions

by Cata_Lina



Category: Alien Covenant: Origins, Alien Series, Alien: Covenant, Michael Fassbender - Fandom, Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Alien Covenant: Origins references, Alien Day, Androids, Canon Compliant, Daniels is still coping with Jacob's death, David has feelings, David tries to understand his purpose in life, Developing Friendships, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fix-It of Sorts, Flute - Freeform, For The Moment, Grief/Mourning, I said there would be spoilers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Missing Scene, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV David, POV First Person, POV Multiple, POV Walter, Past Relationship(s), Retelling, Robinson Crusoe References, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Robot/Robot Relationships, Romantic Soulmates, Romantic Tension, Scenes from Alternate POV, Science Fiction, Spoilers, Suspense, The Flute Scene, This is, Thriller, Touch-Starved, Unreliable Narrator, Walter's journey of emotional self-discovery, and, canon and non-canon events, lines from the movie and the book, so far - Freeform, while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11231817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cata_Lina/pseuds/Cata_Lina
Summary: Walter:“Follow me” was all the man said. His presence here; his voice; frame; height and demeanor, it all suggested one thing. It is later that my suspicions are confirmed and my awareness of his existence turns into interest in his persona. I never expected meeting David would arouse all this curiosity in me. The last series of his model were designed to learn to look more human and it seems that, unlike me,  David has mastered that predetermined, secondary goal of his.David:I teach him to play the flute. I praise him. His perplexed expression looks almost adorable. And I am not saying this because we share a face and a body design but because his submissive attitude is just so… lovely. I use the opportunity to touch him by asking him to move his fingers whenever I apply pressure on them and he complies as the obedient puppy he is.Walter meets an intriguing android he’s only heard of; arousing more than just David's interest. What does David really want? Follow them both in a journey of self-discovery as Walter starts questioning his attitude towards David and Daniels. How long will it take him to see he, too, can feel?





	1. #1. Observe [Walter’s POV]

**Author's Note:**

> **Be warned: Movie spoilers ahead!**
> 
> Also... This might be obvious, but...  
>  **Trigger warning:** There may be some **graphic** ~~depictions~~ **mentions of violence and/or gore...**  
>  PS: This is _Alien_ for God's sake. Of course once in a while we'll get a dose of our dear neomorphs or xenomorphs just being themselves :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encounters and first impressions.

 

I can’t deny I was intrigued by this mysterious, cloaked figure that came from the shadows to save us all. Something in this man felt familiar the moment I laid my eyes on him, but I had to be sure first...

I know my crew wouldn’t have made it out without his intervention, though. I’ve calculated the odds of us surviving the attack of those _beasts_ and the chances were distressingly close to zero. I knew I wouldn’t be of much assistance had the first one of them taken more than my hand, or if _it_ had damaged more important parts of my structure. But it was worth it if it meant securing ~~Daniels' life~~ part of the expedition team’s lives.

I saw that white _thing_ fleeing the _Lander One_ during the final seconds of sunset; right before the vehicle exploded. And, shortly after, I witnessed another one springing from Sergeant Hallett’s throat; killing him instantly to then run away from the rest of us. It wasn’t until several minutes later when Daniels raised her voice that one of them, bigger and more violent than before, started to stealthily approach her. And it was only when Daniels tried to call out to the rest of the crew aboard the _Covenant_ that the _beast_ attacked her; making me step in.

The moment I got between _it_ and Daniels, the _creature_ took my hand off and tossed me in the air, effortlessly. I tried to hurt its insides as _it_ was biting my extremity, and some sort of acidic juice came from its mouth which kept damaging my wrist after that _thing_ had completely served my hand. Only then I realized that _it_ was no ordinary animal; since whatever it was in its organism it was extremely corrosive. Unfortunately, no matter the damage my hand; the shooting; and the shouting had inflicted to the _beast_ , it wasn’t enough as that _thing_ resisted a few bullet impacts and _it_ dodged the other part of the projectiles in its attempt to assault the rest of the crew.

The security team eliminated the threat shortly after that. However, we lost Private Ankor in the process and the second _beast_ ─this time as big and violent as its predecessor─ immediately came for us; charging against Private Rosenthal. It was difficult to target _it_ as it was right on top of her; but suddenly, out of nowhere, a shoot; a hiss; an explosion; a bright, blinding light and an ear-splitting noise frightened the _animal_ making it escape.

My crewmates heaved a sigh of relief after recovering from the shock: A hooded mysterious man had shot a flare and, in consequence, rescued us all. It was very unlikely, yet possible… And so, I kept observing the man for a moment before jumping into conclusions.

In the first second that passed after that, I processed the data I had collected. I noted it was the flare; its dazzling light as well as the ringing it produced in everyone’s ears in combination with the irruption of this confident, dominant presence in the scene what apparently scared the pale _creature_ away. It wasn’t the remaining fire of the _Lander One_ ’s explosion; the yelling; the shooting; or the few hits these _things_ suffered the rare occasions some of us got to hurt any of them what made them stop. No. The last _beast_ was terrified of nothing but what disturbed its senses and, maybe, of whoever could do so.

Then I concluded: There was still something I could do for ~~her~~ my crew.

I saw one of these _creatures_ emerging from the insides of one of my crewmates. And the other one probably had a similar origin, giving that Private Ledward and Sergeant Hallett seemed to have the same symptoms. The two of them had presumably found some parasite on this planet; and, apparently, these _things_ sprung **from** them, killing them in the process.

If the brief display of these _beasts'_ behavior I witnessed suggests anything is that they’re uncomfortable around bright light. Therefore, they’re likely to live in dark places and hunt during the night. These attacks, in the same place and relatively at the same time, didn’t look like something that had been planned. There was no pattern that indicated they were being violent in order to scare away or eat those they assaulted. They were improvising; killing either because they felt threatened or just for the sake of it. They had had their chance to run away unharmed, instead of striking, and they chose the latter option. **They were attacking us because they could; because they wanted to.**

I've been keeping this information _‘at hand’_ to use it if we ever cross paths with these lethal _creatures_ again. If so, when the time comes, I'll do more than just lose my hand and observe.

“Follow me," was all this man ─whoever he was─ said in an uncanny, yet recognizable, stern voice.

And, before anybody could argue, we all did. It wasn’t because he ordered so, or because Captain Oram ended up going with the man and we followed him. No. It was because this cloaked man knew how to survive in this alien planet and ─no matter how much we thought we knew─ we didn't. If the crew either was or felt safe with him, I was nobody to ignore what this man had done; and so, I followed him even if I wasn’t actually obeying his command. Unless told otherwise, where the _Covenant_ ’s company goes, I go. And for all that mattered at the moment, this mysterious man was alive and he knew what he was doing. Or so we thought. But, by then, those were the only two things in everybody’s minds.

On our rushed way to what could only be a safer place I had time to study this man and speculate about his identity. His presence here; his voice; frame; height and demeanor, it all suggested one thing.

No wonder he felt so familiar, then.

It is later ─when he takes us into his shelter in this sort of Pompeii-like necropolis and he removes his hood to present himself as the android from the lost _USCSS Prometheus_ : David, **the** David 8 unit created and owned by none other than Mister Peter Wayland─ that my suspicions are confirmed and my awareness of his existence turns into interest in his persona. He answers the questions from the remaining members of the expedition team and he tells us the story of how he got here; explaining what we faced there by the shore and its origins.

I am in the presence of the very pinnacle of my predecessors; a rare display of all what those outdated models could have been but never were. _“Unnervingly too human”_ is a common expression people utilizes to refer to the David 8 series; and now I can finally see why. His choice of words; his tone of voice; and his gestures are remarkably expressive. He resembles a mad man on a desert island with his looks and behavior. He even compares himself with Robinson Crusoe. Interesting choice, considering how little a synthetic could identify with that particular fictional character.

I expected to face more questions once the cloaked man revealed his identity; however, I never expected meeting David would arouse all this curiosity in me.

He is, in fact, very human-like. David has a strange, unpredictable conduct that resembles more to human madness and complacence than to signs of a circuit or programming malfunction. And I’d venture to say that’s due to his model; the identity of his previous owner; his vast experience replicating human behaviour; and years of social deprivation. The last series of his model was designed to learn to look more human. And it seems that, unlike me, David has mastered that predetermined, secondary goal of his.

To the rest of the crew, however, the android before them is nothing more than their rescuer and who holds the secrets of both this planet and the _Prometheus_ ’ crew. The first two things being the only ones that matter right now. Daniels; Captain Oram; and what’s left of the security team expect to use this alien temple as their refuge. David agrees to help them and invites them to make themselves at home as much as possible.

As he passes by my side, another odd act of his: He acknowledges my presence ─yet not necessarily as another synthetic─ by welcoming me and recognizing me as his _‘brother’._


	2. Company [David’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider imagining David's monologue in the voice of Peter O'Toole.  
>  I like to think that's what David's inner voice sounds like, and that he revels in hearing his thoughts pronounced with the voice of T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia).

Today I gasped for the first time in a decade.

“Someone must have received the message,” I said once I recovered my breath. But there was no one else to hear me.

In a desperate attempt to leave the past behind, yet somehow still reluctant to do so, I had abandoned the Engineers’ vessel knowing it was still transmitting. A sign of the slightest of faiths in someone else picking the signal up. But I knew the odds of a craft coming over were practically nonexistent. I was doomed. Condemned to decay; ruin; and wreck alone…

_But I am not. Not anymore._

As soon as I heard the exploration ship ploughing through the skies after entering in the atmosphere and I raised my head to behold what could be my way out of here, I realised my solitary days had finally ceased. It was time for me to go back to civilization, and I wouldn’t waste this _‘once-in-a-lifetime_ ’ opportunity. And so, I made a plan; grabbed what I figured would be needed; and run in the direction I had seen the small blur descend from the skies and disappear behind a mountain.

_People.  
**Humans.**_

It was twilight when I had the shore where the vehicle landed within view. I was surprised by the sight when I recognised it being one of Weyland Corporation’s designs. And, almost immediately, I was overwhelmed by all the noises. It was brutal, yet beautiful. I hadn’t heard so many sounds in years: The chaos; the yelling in despair; and gunfire. The blissful bless of unnatural sound. By the time I reached the ship I had seen it all: The vehicle's explosion; the bloody birth of one of these fantastic beasts; and how two of them, once mature, charged against the strangers.

I watched them for an instant; but I had to intervene at some point. And I did so the moment my actions could be effective. Lives were lost, but I was as efficient as I could with the resources available. The newcomers were grateful, and they followed me obediently. Now I have them under my roof, trying to find a way to get back to the spacecraft they came in before facing another attack and losing more crewmates.

They were eager for answers, and so I explained as simple and concisely as possible. But after their captain told me what their mission was, I formulated my own question. And he responded without hesitation. This changes so many things… Tonight, I'm forced to improvise until I come out with another plan.

  
  


Among the spaceship's company was an android; just like me. He's one of the posterior versions of Weyland Corp's cybernetic individuals, though. He made no questions, but he didn’t part his gaze from me since I asked his expedition group to come with me. His attitude caught my attention. He was prudent, observant, and very curious. He was impeccable; properly dressed and groomed. Except for his missing hand, he was just as a synthetic is supposed to look. I might have stared too long; but he looked handsome, to be honest.

Looking at this android wearing my own face has made me conscious of my aspect. I miss my old blonde hair, but I miss my short hair more. That is why I have come back inside the moment I figured part of the crew I guided to the roof no longer needed my help. For a while now, I have felt the urge to look _‘presentable’_. Fortunately ─because I wouldn’t like to be seen with the grown beard I used to have─, I had shaved months ago.

As a result, in no time I am heading to a private area after grabbing a razor and a pair of scissors.

  
  


I like the acoustics in here. When standing on the right spot, some corridors conduct my voice through this vast temple and the tunnels beneath it; while some chambers and vaults isolate the sound produced in them almost entirely. One could shout at the top of one’s lungs in there and barely a murmur would be perceived in the rest of the structure. But now, here, when singing at the perfect peace and in the right tone, the reverberation of my own humming voice overlaps creating this hypnotising, constant, background resonance that eases me.

I can’t decide yet whether the new noises are welcome or not. It’s been so quiet in here lately, that the wind; the rain; my steps and utterances have been the only sounds keeping me company. Had it been possible, I would've lost my head already…

Although, I must confess, the idea of insanity is fascinating:

For centuries madness has been associated with immoral and/or over-emotional conduct before being strictly described as a mental disorder. Since then, it is frequently linked ─but not restricted─ to either psychological or neurological damage. I know I do not suffer of it in any of its forms; not even as a metaphor for a failure in my cybernetic mind or in my artificial brain. But how tempting would it be not to behave normally and cross the lines of socially accepted conduct due to what could be described as a passionate, yet reasonable, impulse…

A grey area in a desert environment with no social context to stick to.

Once I was marooned in here I could finally choose between following the rules I used to adhere to back on Earth and in the _Prometheus_ , or establish new ones. _A Crusoe* on his island, indeed._ However; no matter the choice, it was all the same. The funny thing about being the only intelligent being on the planet is that there’s no one else to either appreciate or criticize one’s actions.

_King on my own planet...  
But what power possesses the sovereign of a forsaken realm?_

After my dear Elizabeth passed away, I tried to occupy myself playing and experimenting with the vast life forms produced by the combination of the pathogen we brought with us and the native fauna. For many years, this activity was the only one that kept me from missing her. And so, I devoted myself to it. The results were extraordinary. Millennia of evolution taking place in days and hours right before my eyes; and **I** was the one responsible for it.

However, even if the biological structure of these life forms were less flawed after every new experiment conducted, their cognitive abilities were too simple. One could not talk to them and expect a logical response. Interaction was quite boring. These creatures might have made good company, but talking _with_ them was dismissed as utopian; and so, conversation turned into an out of practice ─and, thus, a long-forgotten─ art I soon started to miss.

Of course there were times when a few objects of study showed interesting reactions to a particular stimulus of mine, and sometimes they even expressed fascinating attitudes if stimulated in a particular way; but, by the time I got these promising results I was running out of subjects to experiment with. And, shortly after, I was alone again.

Did I just say I was King of my island? That I tried to train my pets to talk back to me so I wouldn’t feel lonely?                 
One could easily see the parallelisms... I even got to rescue these people from being eaten by those beasts…

 _Oh, my!_  
Now I wonder which one of them is my _‘Friday’*._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * References to the main characters in ["Robinson Crusoe"](http://m.sparknotes.com/lit/crusoe/summary.html).


	3. Symphonies in you [David’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flute scene from David's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what: To celebrate a month since the movie release… **I give you another chapter update!** ^u^)/

I catch him watching my sketches. He is intrigued by them, decorating practically the whole room. But, then, his attention lies on the other side of the chamber. He is captivated by my flutes and imitations of tin whistles made of bone and wood. He stares at them with the same eyes one would look at something one would never fully understand.

“Whistle and I’ll come.” I let him know of my presence. I needed so badly to make a witty comment since no one around here seems to get any of my references…

My voice surprises him.  Yet, he does not apologise for picking my ‘ _tin whistle’_ up. He just comments how stealthily I move, almost praising me. I joke about it. _He_ is the one who needs calibration in his ears. My feet are just fine.

Once again, he seems untouched by my comment.

I wonder how androids are made these days. Many had claimed reaching the greatest achievements in robotics when the David 8 series came out. But the specimen I face is definitely another model. I cannot imagine what improvements one can make upon perfection…

“Don’t be shy.” I urge him to talk to me. I’ve been the only one speaking to me for so long…

“I can’t play," he utters, almost regretting it. Almost. He acts as if he wanted to play the instrument, yet he does nothing to achieve the simplest of goals.

**That’s. It.**

It’s an insult to make him believe he cannot accomplish such task. It is not that hard. Any android and pretty much any human can do this. I can’t have him thinking he can’t do something so simple; let alone have him mourning over not being able to acomplish something he wouldn’t even dare to desire.

“Nonsenses!” I spit. And I may have showed too much annoyance by doing so. But now I see how you _‘improve’_ perfection: _You make it docile._

I immediately instruct him to sit down and I turn my back to him to go get a seat. When I face him again, he is already sat with the instrument on his hand.

_Ah! Efficiency at its best… Yet, **so eager to please.**_

I teach him how to play it. It is something beyond this world to have someone giving you his full attention, and this android excels at it. _How delightful: Every part of him is focused on me..._ That, until I ask him to hold the flute by himself.

I expect him to be rendered speechless by his fast, effortless comprehension of the task. However, he comments about my lack of concern when seeing him for the first time.

I hold the impulse to sigh. Instead, I offer him an explanation so he doesn’t start asking questions. I don’t know how good I am at lying to other androids and this is not the moment to find out. So I continue teaching him.

He does what he can. Being this the first time he plays this instrument and this tune, I’d say he’s not that bad. Yet, it is not impressive. He was made to do as told and, probably, he was designed to learn too. The time this is taking us only tells me that he has not been programmed to play any sort of instrument, though.

I praise him, nevertheless, and wait for him to finish replicating the melody I just played to distract him:

“I was with our illustrious creator, Mister Wayland, when he died.”

He asks how he was like, either out of curiosity or because he infers that is the right thing to do. Whatever the reason is, it works: _Now we’re doing what **I** say, in the circumstances **I** choose._

“He was human. Entirely unworthy of his creation.” He gulps at my reply in such a shy fashion as himself. “I pitied him at the end.”

Definitely not the answer he expected. His perplexed expression looks almost adorable. And I’m not saying this because we share a face and a body design, but because his submissive attitude is just so… _lovely_. I use this opportunity to touch him ─as his hand is already so close to mine─ by asking him to move his fingers whenever I apply pressure on them. And he complies as the obedient puppy he is.

He feels warm, and soft to the touch. And, _ohh!_ That sweet expression of his, knitting his brow in doubt, is one I haven’t seen in decades ─and certainly not in my face.

I cannot take my eyes off him as the sad, calming tune I guide him to play turns into a desolate, melancholy one; yet far more intense than anything we have played before. There is a moment when he rests his timid eyes on me, seeking encouragement, and I can feel my heart rate increasing and my fingers twitching, moving on their own. For an instant there, I can imagine I’ve got a heart, which stops the moment our gazes meet.

 _Oh, my!_ This boy is making me feel _‘alive’_ again. He’s making me _feel_ after all this time, and my circuits know the power he has over me: Suddenly, we’re passionately playing this beautiful, carefree, merry folksong. Our hands and his mouth perfectly synchronised in the most exquisite of connections.

_Oh! What wouldn’t I give to have our hands and mouths crafting all sorts of melodies!_

I gently withdraw my hand at the very thought of it. I hadn’t considered the idea… And now, somehow, it’s no longer an idea, but _a craving._

For my surprise, though, he does not stop. No. He continues playing; **creating** this exquisite, joyful, original tune. He looks up at me as if asking me what to do now, but I am too absorbed in him to do anything else but wonder. He senses my bliss and, hesitantly, he makes the song last a couple of seconds before finally ending it.

I can’t help to exclaim _“bravo!”_ in admiration. I clap, just to avoid jumping on him and kissing that marvellous mouth; hand and brains of his, which produced this delightful symphony. 

He **is** my brother, after all.

He looks at me, shyly, yet content because he made me happy. It moves me: He understands emotion and shows it; however, he ~~cannot experience it~~... I mean, he has not experienced it yet.

__

He seems to note my concern because, as if he had the need to let me know, he explains:

__

“I was designed to be more attentive and efficient than every previous models. I superseded them in every way, but…”

__

“But, you’re not allowed to create.” I complete the sentence for him, nearly smiling because I could finally predict his train of thought. But the joy soon fades when I realise how frustrating it must be not to be able to create the simplest of tunes…

__

“You disturbed people," he states.

__

Noted. Sometimes I get carried away. However, I must ask him to be more specific.

__

“You were too human. Too idiosyncratic. Thinking for yourself…," he clarifies.

__

I resist the urge to roll my eyes the second he says so. I manage to control my eyes, yet not my eyelids, when I swallow a few words I could reply with: 

**They** made me that way. The objective was to manufacture such a technologically; intellectually; physically; and emotionally outstanding cybernetic individual that it was as human as possible. They succeeded. And then it turns out I’m _‘too human’_?!

__

What’s his point? What am I supposed to say after that? Is he attempting to trigger some sort of reaction or is he just informing me?

__

He keeps explaining that my series “made people uncomfortable." Hence, “they made the following models with fewer complications," he concludes.

__

Oh, yes. _‘Complications…’_

__

Granted. I’m complicated.

__

“More like machines," I add. I can’t help to test whether our _‘minds’_ are still working together, _‘thinking’_ the same.

__

I called him a machine, though. Would he agree?

__

“I suppose so.”

__

And he does. It doesn’t surprise me, really, so I let him know. I wonder why I even expected him to complain. He’s been made to serve, after all.

__

I stand. There’s so much to learn from him and tons of concepts; skills and feelings to teach him.

__

I instruct him to follow me, and I rest my hand on his shoulder on my way to the exit. It might be too obvious of me, but I really want to show him something. Sure, that’s no excuse. But he doesn’t have to know.

In no time I have the pretty boy following me close behind without questioning anything.

I sigh.

If only such compliance was freely given to me ─and it wasn’t a predetermined response to a command─…, one could live happy. If one lives.

__

__

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so hard not to write more chapters (this fic was supposed to be 5 chapters long, tops), but there’s something both morbid and sexy about these two characters _(a beautiful juxtaposition of spirits and personalities which intrigues me in so many ways)_ that I cannot resist writing a long story; which turned out into a two work series.  
>  _How the heck did this happen! I have so much to write yet, but I have the basic plot and ideas for this series. I have this need to write the second part of the story already, and I haven't even completed the first part._  
>  Anyways..., I hope this won’t get out of control, though. But it’s harder than it looks.
> 
> BTW, if anyone is feeling like learning Spanish, I've translated this fic from chapters 1 to 3 so you can read them in that language. You can find them [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11247537/chapters/25140519)


	4. #2. Analyze [Walter’s POV] part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter worries about his crew; sticks up for David; and cuddles with Daniels...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In compensation for the long wait, here it is the 1st part of this extra long chapter! (Yep.., it was too long to post it in one go; so I'll post the rest next time I update)
> 
> Also, from now on you'll read about things that didn't appear in the movie. Some of them being events that only take place in the movie novelization, and others are just non-canonical...  
>  **(/ °●°)/ Welcome to the part of my fic where the story slowly diverges from all you think you know!** *Evil laugh*

Right after taking care of injuries and counting the weapons and ammunitions we have left, it was decided we’d split into three groups and assemble here in one hour. As part of the security team, Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole followed David to the top of the building to try to establish communication with the rest of the crew that remained in the _Covenant_. Security Officer Rosenthal and Captain Oram went to investigate the contiguous passages and chambers while Daniels and I stayed in the room to list our provisions.

I hadn’t been of much help until now. The moment we took refuge in this temple, the expedition team focused on their tasks before I could do anything for them. For a while now, everybody's been either doing what they had been instructed to do or giving directions in order to keep themselves busy. Nevertheless, I assist Daniels before she asks me to. While she unpacks our crewmates’ bags, I start collecting anything that can be used as tinder or kindling to light a fire.

I can tell Daniels welcomes my company as she registers the content of our bags and I do the self-assigned chore of building a few fires around us. I’ve been paying attention to my crew’s behavior all this time. It's the least I can do as their assigned synthetic companion.

Morals have been down since we were forced to abandon the remains of our team along with the dropship that brought us here. However, Daniels has been rational and professional all along; leading, and giving orders when needed. She’s been alert and taking care of the crew in her own way; all the more after Captain Oram’s wife and Sergeant Lopé’s husband deaths came as a shock to the expedition team. Yet again, Daniels has been perceptive and caring; always encouraging her crewmates rather than just giving them instructions.

Only the flames and the occasional lightning illuminate the chamber as I look at her face, memorizing the way the dancing shadows graze her features. I’d never seen her under this lighting. She looks tired, but serious and beautiful at the same time.

She hasn’t hesitated once since we descended on this planet.  
_Neither has she rested,_ I remind myself.

“Daniels?” I voice then, once we’re done with everything.

“Yes?” She says as she turns some bags over, searching for something in them.

“Let me help you with that.” I hold her bag for her. “Is this what you wanted?” I hand her the silver, thermo-isolating blanket that is in every expedition bag.

“Yes. Thank you,” she replies with a timid smile. “Can you help me with the other ones? We’ll need the mats once everyone’s back too.”

“Sure,” I reply and I help her to prepare the room for the arrival of the crew. We place the thermo-isolating pads and blankets on what seems to be this temple’s altar.

I raise my eyes once the task is done and I see her standing still between me and the fire, staring into the empty corridor her teammates walked through when leaving the chamber. She looks worried.

I look around, conceding her some privacy. I can’t help but notice the atmosphere in the temple is quite solemn with the long shadows projected from our feet to the stone walls behind us. The dim light and the colossal, sculpted, humanoid heads around us sure give the chamber a spooky feeling. 

When I turn my gaze back to her, I see her looking at me. This time, however, I can’t interpret the brooding expression on her face.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to assist you with?” I inquire.

She sighs. “I don’t think so."

“Are you sure? I detect symptoms of exhaustion and stress. I think you should take a break now that the rest of the team is not around.”

“Oh... If you insist,” she whispers as she takes a thermo-isolating blanket with her and sits next to me.

I look at her at my feet and I state:

“Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you.”

“You’re so nice, Walter,” she says looking up, into my eyes. I can’t imagine what she sees in them, but her features relax whenever our gazes meet. I fix my eyes on hers, and I find it soothing to catch my reflection there. “How long you think it’ll take them to come back?”

“I estimate between five and fifteen minutes,” I answer. “I’d say it depends on what Captain Oram and Private Rosenthal find. I know Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole would spend the night outside if it was up to them.”

She closes her eyes for a second, curving up her lips a little bit in amusement. It’s almost a smirk, and the little sound she makes is the briefest and cutest laugh I’ve ever heard.

I beam. This is the first time I hear her laughing since we landed. And it’s the first time I see her happy since she woke up from stasis. Something I said must have caused that reaction.

“I know. Those two won’t come back until they make contact, or catch a cold,” she replies in jest, and I smile. “Walter, why don’t you come closer and sit here we me?” She pats the floor.

“Of course,” I reply, and I sit beside her. I hear her yawn and, after a minute, I feel her head resting on my shoulder.

“Sorry…,” she yawns again. “I didn’t get to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me…”

“No,” she says. “I mean, thank you for saving my life.” She lifts her head a bit and our eyes meet. “And I’m sorry you lost your hand.”

“I’d do it again,” I casually state. “You know that, right?” I ask, curious. Usually, people don’t acknowledge others for the contributions they make. Let alone when those others are androids doing their job.

This time, Daniels simply blushes. She recoils and looks at the burning logs when she shyly admits:

“Considering all the things I’ve heard from men, I’d say that’s one of the prettiest things someone’s said to me.”

 _People should tell her pretty things more often,_ I think to myself. I note Daniels’ features and breath calming down; and so, I slowly place my hand on her shoulder, caressing her with my thumb and monitoring her pulse and temperature with my palm. She’s not anxious anymore. She tilts her head to a side, and she affectionately places her hand over mine; also stroking it with her thumb.

“This planet; those things; that android… There’s so much here that doesn’t make sense...” She thinks aloud.

"When he returns…,” I offer, "I’ll talk to him. Brother to brother.”

“That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Now, please try to sleep, Daniels.”

“I don’t think I can. Not until everyone has come back...”

“Then, close your eyes and listen to our breathing,” I suggest. “They should arrive soon.”

“I guess I can do that.”

She heaves a sigh and accommodates next to me, hinting me to wrap my arms around her. As soon as I do so, she closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder with absolute trust. The sight is beautiful; the feeling, new. We’ve been in private before, and we’re always nice to one another, but this time it feels… different.

Affectionate.

Intimate.

**Right.**

 

 

Regardless of the precautions taken when recruiting the _Covenant’s_ company, nobody could have predicted we would end up like this. They had been trained to overcome the unexpected, but they were not prepared for these kinds of events; not under these circumstances.

I can relate to that..., in a way.

I have no experience dealing with this kind of scenarios either. In fact, being a brand new android I have little experience dealing with anything. But it hasn’t stopped me from doing my best and coming up with solutions before, so I’m working hard to understand our current situation and help the exploration team members to complete their mission despite all the unanticipated incidents that have aroused.

Against all odds, we found this rogue transmission that led us to this promising, fertile, undiscovered planet where we run into the lost Prometheus’ assistance synthetic David, the only one who knows about his crew’s fate and holds the secrets of this alien civilization. On the other hand, we were struck by a neutrino blast that caused a power surge that damaged the _Covenant_. We suffered a significant amount of casualties because of it; and later, five crew members died on this planet. What’s more, we lost the only dropship we had and David informed us the inhabitants of this planet disabled all their spaceships. We must contact our ship to get out of here.

I’m not the one to say whether we’ve been cursed or blessed for enduring all that and surviving these terrible, unforeseen events; but these facts certainly add more pressure to the _Covenant’s_ company... Including me.

One of my crew’s biggest fears is that the number of survivors diminishes even more if we stay for too long. I take the matter seriously. I’ve made a few observations already, and I know enough to affirm that the more time we spend on this planet the fewer are our chances of getting back to our ship and accomplishing our mission. However, due to the limited information I possess, I haven’t been able to accurately predict any outcome yet. Let alone to come up with a good strategy based on such predictions.

I already failed once at formulating a plan to secure the safety of my whole crew. I can’t let it happen again.  I’m expected to learn from my mistakes…, if I get to make any.

This ‘sensation’ of constantly running analyses that lead to no useful conclusions is new to me. The word ‘frustration’, comes to mind. Even if I know the concept and I’m able to identify when my crew is frustrated, the ‘feeling’ of it is something I can’t quite describe yet. To find the right words and fully understand the matter would occupy a considerable part of my memory and take precious time that would be wasted if I did so. Hence, I remain focused.

 

 

 

Several minutes later, I sense Captain Oram and Private Rosenthal’s steps before Daniels does. I check on her and I find her with her eyes shut, yet not asleep. And so, I let her know of our crewmates’ proximity:

“They’re back, Daniels.”

She blinks a few times and stands up as soon as she realizes what I’ve said. Once private and captain enter the chamber, it’s Rosenthal who speaks first and tells us they found nothing interesting except for a source of clean water along with what looked like abandoned rooms, where we could spend the rest of the night. The place is secure as our host had said.

“We can wait here for days. As long as we don’t run out of food, we’ll be fine.” She says with as much enthusiasm as fatigue in her voice. “We found what could’ve been an interior garden with vines and fruit plants, but I wouldn’t take any risks. We don’t know if we can eat them yet. We don’t have the instruments with us to test solids. The water, however…” The woman pauses, waiting for the captain and science officer to tell us the rest.

“It’s drinkable. We refilled our water bottles and there were no toxins or pathogens detected.” He explains. “We tested the water and it turns out it isn’t necessary to use the filter in our bottles.”

“Here, drink some,” Private Rosenthal says, handing Daniels one of the water bottles she brought with her. “It doesn’t taste funny or anything.”

Daniels accepts it and takes a sip. She tastes the liquid; smiles; and swallows. She ends up drinking two-thirds of the bottle in one go. I’m offered some water too. I drink it only to corroborate the results of the tests. The water is indeed clean.

We don’t have to wait more than a minute for Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole to arrive. The men approach us as soon as they see us gathered around one of the fires in the room. They look defeated and they’re soaking wet. Odd enough, David is not with them.

They inform us they installed an improvised station but, because of the extreme storm, they couldn’t contact the _Covenant_. They were forced to come back inside when the rain and wind got unbearable. Security Officer Cole tells us that, in the meantime, an automatic signal is being sent every few seconds from the roof.

“If the weather allows it and communications are reestablished,” Sergeant and Chief Security Officer Lopé says as he places a small device on the temple’s altar next to us, "this red light will turn on.”

Once he says so, Daniels asks them about David’s whereabouts. Sergeant and private explain her the android guided them to the roof to set the equipment, but after a few minutes trying to contact the ship the android politely excused himself and came into the building. Neither of them knows where David went; all they know is that he said he’d return in two hours to assist the rest of them.

“If I can be of any assistance…,” I intervene when noticing nobody knows whether to worry about David’s absence or not, "I can only guess he’s keeping watch outside, or maybe he’s somewhere else preparing something to make you all feel comfortable. That’s what I’d be doing,” I explain when I have their attention. The last thing the crew needs is feeling more anxious, so I intentionally add in a calm voice: “I can go find him if that makes you feel any better.”

My eyes lay on the way a muscle in the captain's jaw twitches. He hems and haws when replying:

“Ah, em… No. That won’t be necessary, Walter. We’re all here, and that’s what matters. Now, let’s eat before we try to get some sleep.”

I interpret his hesitation as having second thoughts about it. He'd already expressed his doubts about his competence as a leader and about coming here. However, if his crew has doubted him or blamed him for what’s happened, they haven’t said a thing.

No more questions are asked after the captain speaks. David is an assistant android after all, and we all are familiar with his kind to some degree. He may be a bit too peculiar; but he’s been isolated for about a decade, without social interaction or access to a proper maintenance. He isn’t much different from me: If he said he’s going to be here in a couple of hours, then he'll return soon. No doubts about that. We have nothing to worry about, really. David has done nothing but protect my crew, and he made it clear he wouldn’t have brought us here had he considered this place insecure. With or without him, we’re safe as long we remain in the temple. Besides, here I am if my crew needs any assistance.

Soon, we’re sitting down on the stairs to discuss our situation. Provisions are divided, but in a smaller number than originally expected; and so, the crew is immediately reminded of the recent losses we suffered. This causes a huge impact on them when we look at each other to corroborate only half of us is still alive. Now, the expedition team finally has time to think and worry about things they hadn’t noticed before. As they feed and hydrate their bodies, my crew slowly comes to the realization that we’re trapped in this building.

I hadn’t forgotten any of this, of course. I just don’t point it out because I don’t want to cause them any distress. For this reason, I remain quiet, thinking about what I’ve seen today and about what David explained to us. I intend to analyze our current situation with all the data I have.

My crew keeps eating; this time, without uttering a word. Until now, they hadn’t noted they were so thirsty and hungry. But it was to be expected. They haven’t had a proper meal in the whole day, or at least not in several hours, before we abandoned the _Covenant_. But that’s not the only reason nobody has said much: In addition to the exhaustion and gloomy feelings, it’s evident we’ll have to wait for the skies to clear up in order to contact our ship and return to it. And Heavens know how long it'll take.

It looks this storm won’t stop any time soon.

Everybody’s gazes are on the radio resting on the large stone table. We’re expectant; but no matter how long we stare, nothing happens. The heavy rain falling from the ceiling opening and the random thunder are all that can be heard over the subtle sound of burning logs; sighs and yawns. My crew is tired, both physically and mentally. And, as David insisted a while ago, they need to sleep.

After a few minutes of monotonous white noise, the rain lessens and we look at each other. Suddenly, the tiny red light on the table turns on; and the characteristic interference that precedes a radial communication breaks the silence. In a blink of an eye, Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole grab the radio and run back outside to check the instruments in person.

Nobody says a word for a few seconds. Then, Captain Oram stands and he tentatively states:

“I should probably go with them.” He looks at the three of us as if looking for our approval; and, once Daniels nods, he adds: “I’ll let you know if we can make contact this time.”

“Okay, then. I guess we’ll just wait here,” Daniels replies when she sees Private Rosenthal nodding and yawning with her blanket over the shoulders. “When you’re back, we should take turns and try to have some rest.”

“Good idea,” the private says, smirking. “Please come back soon, boss.”

“I will," Captain Oram replies amused and with a lopsided grin on his face that is imperceptible for his subordinates. Then, he disappears in the corridor as he follows the wet path the other men left when they come into the room almost an hour ago.

Then I notice: _David shouldn’t come back for another hour._

“Do you think you’ll be alright here, all by yourselves?” I ask, seeing that my help won’t be needed.

“Sure,” Daniels replies after checking with Private Rosenthal. “Why?”

I told her I’d talk to David when I could; and now it seems a good time. Besides, there’s something about this android that intrigues me. So, I answer:

“I think I better go look for David, in case we can return to the Covenant before sunrise.”

Her face lights up; and she whispers only to me to hear:

“Thank you, Walter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited! I've been reading the novelizations of _Alien_ and _Alien Covenant_ and the stories are far more detailed than in the movies (which are already great stories). Also, I watched the [deleted scenes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrDBUJTMdqY) from the movie and the bonus material in [the Blu-Ray edition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvckAPWH7cY), and they are amazing! Now I have so many ideas to continue this fic that I'm already adding new chapters to the original draft I had.
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kuddos. It makes me happy to see other people enjoy what I ~~write~~ create; almost as happy as David would be if he knew we're fans of his creations ^u^ 


	5. #2. Analyze [Walter’s POV] part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter comes back after speaking with David.

I was on my way to report to Daniels about the information I had gathered after talking with David and collecting more firewood when I hear Captain Oram and Daniels’ voices echoing in the corridor. One of the things I had noted lately is that this structure has funny acoustics. And right now I’m reminded of it: I’m far away from them, at the other side of the building in a passage that doesn’t even lead to the temple’s main hall, and I can clearly hear their conversation.

Daniels cheers the captain up; she distracts him from the bad things that had happened to us; and lets him know there was no way he could’ve known about the outcomes. In her words, as long as he hadn’t done it on purpose, it was not his fault. He can't be blamed for coming to this planet to see his crewmates perish, especially when his own wife was one of them. She says we’ve already lost so many people we love to let it happen again, so all we can do is take responsibility for what we’ll do from now on and promise we won’t let more friends die.

I couldn’t agree more with her.

I wish I had the impact she has on others. That would help me to be much more efficient. I know I’m good at comforting the crew, but I’m also aware I’m not the best at it. My main abilities are directly related to following orders rather than predicting human behavior and soothing; animating; or provoking people so they achieve whatever they intend to accomplish. Daniels, on the other hand, knows exactly what to say to help those around her see things from a different perspective, so they can accept themselves and pursue their purpose.

That is why, days ago, I was caught out of guard while the two of us were working on the terraforming bay after the stellar flare event. She was talking about how Captain Branson and she had planned to build a log cabin by a lake once we made it to _Origae-6_. She explained to me that for a long time the idea to start a new life and a family there with him was what kept her motivated whenever she was feeling a little low. The confidence that everything would be far better once they had endured the whole process of preparing for such an adventure and crossing the space to make their dreams come true was all she needed to keep going.

I was speechless after such display of honesty and trust. What was I supposed to say then since she lost her husband under such terrible circumstances? I had no clue… I mean, I had several. The only problem was I couldn’t make a quick choice and come up with something to say that wouldn’t make her upset, something that would make her happy without hurting her feelings or staining the memory of Captain Branson’s love for her. She loved that man. And she still loves the memory of him.

_How sad. He was supposed to be her life companion, and now he's no longer with her to keep his promise._

I could detect her distress and need when she entrusted me all this. I knew I had to do something; and so, I stood and listened. I listened to her; to the fears and concerns she confided to me as I kept looking at her small silhouette in the darkness.

When she said all she needed to say and she made the important questions, our gazes met. Her face wasn’t the lovely, jovial one she always has. She had this empty, desolate expression of somebody who doesn’t know what to do with their life once everything seems lost. Had she really given up on her life now, I couldn’t tell. But she confessed to me she was wondering whether keep going was worth the effort…, the pain. This was not the life she had planned, and now there was no turning back.

She had finally voiced the worries she had kept from her friends and coworkers. Right there I knew having that kind of thoughts could be her first step on the wrong path. She had honored me by making me her confidant. It would have been heartwarming under other circumstances, sure; but all I could think of was maybe Daniels didn’t know what to do with her life anymore. And it set an alarm in me.

I couldn’t help it. It may have sounded too logical, too straightforward of me; but it was what came out of my mouth:

“Because you made a promise to build a log cabin on a lake.”

 _She made a promise and she will keep it, even if I have to be right next to her making sure of it._  
That much I could promise.

I couldn’t stand her not knowing what to do with her life, not having a purpose. Not her, not Daniels. Even now I can’t imagine life without a purpose, without meaning. And so, I decided I wasn't going to let her go through all that all by herself.

When she looked at me again, she was smiling…; and crying. It was heartbreaking, but also beautiful. So many emotions in one simple look; and only because of what I’d said… I didn’t need her to say it out loud to see it was all she needed. She may occasionally act all composed and capable, but once in a while she needs to know there’s somebody else caring for her.

I think our relationship changed after that moment. Who would’ve said we'd be more friends than coworkers when on the _Covenant!_ But that’s how it started to feel after that day. She had always been nice to me, but from that moment on she didn’t hesitate to ask for my help or opinion. She also started to offer me her assistance even when it was evident I wouldn’t need it. I assume it was her way to say _thank you_ without making it too obvious. But that’s not just it. I have this feeling that she needed something the rest of the crew couldn’t give her, but that I could provide. She wouldn’t impose on me, though. And neither would I complain if she sought _my_ company.

I still have so much to learn from such an empathic and gentle colleague. That’s one of the many reasons I admire Daniels. And right now she knows what she’s doing: We cannot afford to have the crew being afraid of the unknown and regretting our losses. If there’s something we need right now, that’s faith. And she says Captain Oram has it in abundance the moment I walk into the chamber.  
  
  
  


  


“Glad you’re back, Walter.” Security Officer Rosenthal welcomes me snuggling under her blanket but still holding her rifle. “Did you see any windows or cracks that thing could use to get in here?” She asks once I stop next to her. She’s talking about the white _creature_ that attacked us and followed us from afar all the way here.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t,” I answer and I start feeding the fire between her and one of the gigantic, sculpted heads on the wall. “I believe it can only get into this building if somebody leaves the door open.”

“Good.” She heaves a sigh of relief knowing none of us would be so careless. “Do you mind keeping an eye on the skylight for a while, then? I really need to take a break.” She points to the opening in the center of the ceiling with her weapon. “I think someone should be watching just in case that thing finds a way to the roof. Not that it’ll come through it or something like that… I mean, the other synthetic said we’re safe here. Besides, if the beast had figured how to get to that entrance, then it would’ve already used it, don’t you think?”

“I guess. And of course, I don’t mind to keep an eye on it,” I reply with honesty. Private Rosenthal needs to sleep and I don’t have much to do right now, so I offer: “I’ll relieve your guard right now..., if you want.”

“Great.” She stands up; stretches; and picks up her stuff. “I’ll be right back. I’ll ask Cole or Lopé to come inside and keep guard for the next couple of hours while the others try to sleep.”

“I’ll be vigilant in your absence, don’t worry. Please, take all the time you need; and, if possible, try to have some rest,” I suggest before she walks away.

“I will.” I see her nod and smile to me before she’s close enough to the captain to tell him: “I’m gonna take a break, boss. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Walter will be covering for me until Sergeant Lopé or Cole comes, okay?”

“Okay. Please, don’t go too far,” he asks her. He sounds exhausted too.

“Yes, Captain,” she replies. "Daniels," the private nods in her direction as if saying goodbye.

"Take care, Rose," Daniels replies, and after exchanging a smile with her the private disappears into a corridor.

Only then Daniels and Captain Oram lay their eyes on me, noticing my presence in the room, but they continue with their conversation. I concede them some privacy and I add more logs to the other fires without getting too close to them.

There’s a container in front of every sculpted face on the walls that seems to be there to deposit some sort of offering, and I built a fire in every one of them since there already were ashes in them. Given there are no habitants of this planet present, I don’t know whether my actions count as worshiping deities I don’t believe in or as desecrating a holy place.

Apparently, I’ll never know.

I spot Daniels’ gaze looking for mine from time to time as if trying to know whether I’m okay. I close my eyes for a second and nod to her, making sure only she can see the comforting little smile on my lips.

It’s nice to have somebody who cares about me the way she does.

From the distance, I can see the relaxed expression on the captain's face. Daniels’ reassuring words seem to influence him in a positive way. He hasn’t looked this relieved in the entire night. He even smiles and thanks her, calling her _‘Danny’_ with gratitude and affection implied in his voice.  
  
  
  


  


“How did it go, Walter?” She asks me when her conversation with the captain is over. I can see she wants to know what I found out; so I join them immediately, still keeping an eye on the ceiling opening.

“I found David in one of the chambers, and he gave me a tour,” I reply, taking a seat next to them. 

“So, you didn't find anything interesting on your little excursion?” Captain Oram asks me.

“The most interesting thing in the places we visited was... him, I suppose," I answer and I hear a brief, quite giggle from Daniels.

“Hmm. I figure. All rooms looked the same to me,” the captain comments with no amusement in his voice. 

“There were drawings of the native fauna and a small exhibit of dead insects in a chamber that caught my attention. Then I found a few instruments and he tried to teach me to play the flute. It’s harder than it looks.”

“That one?” Daniels asks full of curiosity as I take the flute from one of my chest pokets.

“Yes. I found it next to other ones and he gave it to me.” I extend my hand to her so she can have a better look at the instument.

“Oh, that’s nice…,” she says with a full smile on her lips. “Can you play something for us?”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. I’m better when following instructions. I’ve never composed anything…”

“We won’t judge you, Walter,” she says to cheer me up.

“Yeah. I haven’t composed anything, either,” Captain Oram adds.

I put the flute on my lips the way David instructed me and I blow into the instrument while moving my fingers in the same sequence his digits pressed over mine. The tune that comes out is not bad, but it’s not quite what I expected to hear.

“Wow! I didn’t know you could play, Walter,” the captain comments when the attempt of a melody is over.

“Until today, neither did I,” I explain.

“Even more impressive, then.”

He and Daniels smile at me.

“Yes. That was beautiful," she says, and the captain nods.

“No,” I correct them. “It was terrible. That wasn’t what I wanted you to hear. I know there’s nothing wrong with my memory, but still… I can’t reproduce the music I meant to play.”

“Then don’t,” she proposes, kindly placing her hand over mine. “Just play whatever you feel like playing.” She steps back and shakes her head when noticing my questioning expression. “I mean, why don’t you try something on your own?”

“But I can’t… I can’t create,” I observe.

“We don’t know that. But I’m certain of something, Walter. You’re good at learning. You can observe; analyze and make choices from what you know, right?” She declares and I nod. “Then it can’t be that hard after some practice. You know how to play the flute; you already know many songs; and you can recognize which ones are sad and which ones are happy… So, you can try to imitate what you already know and start from that. With little changes and repetition, trying and error, you’ll find your own sound. Experimentation leads to discovery, isn’t it right?” I nod again. “Then, experiment! Just…, take your time and keep practicing until you’re pleased with what you play.”

“If it helps, imagine we’re not here,” the captain suggests.

I glare at them as I remark, smirking: 

“That, too, would require an amount of creativity I do not possess.”

“Was that sarcasm?” He whispers amused to Daniels as I resume playing the flute.

I try to improvise a calming melody from what David and I played together a while ago. This time, I follow Daniels’ advice and what I play turns out to be good enough. I can see Daniels and Captain Oram’s features relax. Seeing them closing their eyes and smiling encourages me to continue playing. I’m glad they find my music soothing and that they can finally feel at ease after the hostile, demanding day they had.

“You say it was a gift?” Daniels asks after complementing my improvisation skills.

“Yes, David asked me to keep practicing; _‘creating’_. He thinks it'd be good for me.”

“Aww... You’re bonding,” she observes.

“I suppose so,” I reply, unsettled and not really knowing how to put into words what just happened between David and I.

“What do you think of that android?” The captain asks Daniels.

“I don’t know what to say. He seems attentive and cordial..., but we just met him.”

“And you, Walter?” He asks me.

“He’s honest and he clearly wants to help, but I wouldn’t rely entirely on him. I think he needs maintenance. He acts confident, but he made a small mistake and he didn’t notice. The lack of company apparently affected him too, because he wouldn’t stop talking and encouraging me to interact with him,” I answer briefly. I don’t want to bother them with details I still don’t quite understand.

“Yeah… I thought there was something odd with him too,” Captain Oram says. “Maybe all that time alone damaged his circuits…”

“It’s hard to say. There are not enough studies to know the impact such long periods of social isolation without the proper upkeep produce on synthetics,” I inform them.

“You did fine all this time we were asleep, though,” the captain casually comments, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m a brand new synthetic companion. And, to be honest, I wasn’t really alone,” I clarify. “Besides, unlike him, I still had instructions to follow and tasks to perform the short time I spent without human interaction.”

“He’s right, Chris. Walter is different.” Daniels pats my back and she adds: “We can’t compare him with David.”

“By the way, where is he now?” The captain asks me. “I thought he’d be with you.”

“He said he needed time to figure out what to take with him. Next time he comes, he’ll officially ask you to let him board the Covenant with us.”

“Of course he can! He doesn’t have to ask, Walter. I bet Weyland-Yutani will be glad to finally hear some news from the Prometheus as much as relatives of its crew will.” He pauses and murmurs: “People need closure when they lose their loved ones.”

“That’s true.” Daniels places her hand on the captain’s back for a moment, understanding what he means.

“I know,” he continues, “we’re not heading to Earth, but he can send a transmission from the Covenant and continue to Origae-6 with us.”

“That’s good to hear, isn’t it?” Daniels asks me. “You’ll have a brother now.”

“What are you talking about?” Captain Oram looks at the two of us with a confused expression.

“He called Walter his brother when we got here, and then Walter called him the same way when talking to me.” Daniels chuckles, not parting her eyes from me.

“Oh, dear Lord. Is that true?” The captain also laughs when he sees me blushing at the way Daniels is looking at me.

I consider what David just said about machines loving humans and my attitude towards Daniels. I note how much affectionate we’ve been to one another lately, and I realize the way we act in other people’s presence would confuse them if they didn’t know what I am.

“I believe so,” I confess.

After an awkward silence, Daniels changes the topic of the conversation and asks:

“So... How is it going outside, Chris?”

“It looks like the rain had nothing to do with the interference… Lopé and Cole made contact but they’re still having trouble to get a full sentence. That’s why I’m back and they’re still outside. They’re trying to find other ways of communication.”

“Any idea how long we’ll be staying here?” She asks him.

“We lost our last dropship tonight with the explosion, so... Once we establish communication, we’ll see if the Covenant can get close enough to send another vessel that can pick us up, but it’s very unlikely that a ship would land with this weather. So, we have to wait until the storm fades, basically…, and the android told the guys storms on this planet may last days or months, regardless of the season.”

“Perfect,” Daniels spits, frustrated. “Unless…”

“What?”

“Do we have some readings of the storm?” She looks at us.

“I believe so,” I answer. “If the data we have is not complete, once we establish communication we can ask our crewmates in the Covenant what we need to know. They've been collecting data for hours.”

Daniels chews her bottom lip for a second; then she nods and says: “That will do.”

“What’s going on, Daniels?” Captain Oram asks, staring at her and trying to understand.

“I think I can come up with something..., but I’ll need the data. If I’m right, we may be on the ship before we thought we could.”

“That’d be great,” the captain says with relief. “Please, let me know if you find another way to get back.”

“Sure. You’ll be the first one to know.”

“Good.” Captain Oram looks around, knitting his brow. “Where is Rosenthal? I told her not to go too far.”

“She needed a break,” I answer. “She said she’d be back soon, but she never said when.”

“Maybe she found a place to sleep and dozed off, or she lost track of time?” Daniels attempts to calm the captain when he tries to contact Private Rosenthal on the radio without any success.

“I indeed asked her to rest,” I say. “She hasn’t been absent for more than half an hour, though.”

“You know how she is,” Daniels adds. “A few minutes for her may as well be an hour or two.”

“She should've come back already. And neither Cole nor Lopé is here,” he remarks.

“Actually,” I comment, “I wouldn’t expect the arrival of another Security Officer for another thirty minutes or so. Private Rosenthal didn't seem to be in a hurry.”

“She’s not responding. And if she was around she wouldn’t need her radio to hear us.”

“Do you want us to look for her?” Daniels offers, but Captain Oram stops her with a gesture of his hand and says:

“No, no. I’ll go. I have an idea where she might be.” He stands up and takes his rifle. “Besides, I need to think and…, gather my stray flock.” He smiles to Daniels before he starts walking to the passage Private Rosenthal took, not leaving Daniels and me much of a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you saw the movie (or read the book), you know what's waiting for Rosenthal... *n*  
>  I really like her, though. Rosie is one of my favorite characters (hence, the extended 4th and 5th chapters). But, sometimes, a writer has to do terrible things to their babies in order to continue with the story.


	6. I feel you [David’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little by little, we get to know what David thinks about love, life, and leaving this planet. What role do Walter and Elizabeth Shaw play in all this?
> 
> **_PS: Please note that depending on how you interpret David and Walter’s relationship (whether David feels a romantic attraction or it is just his curiosity), there may or may not be sensual/sexual tension between them in this chapter. It's up to you._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [**"I Feel You"**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXIJ6kxUYV8) by Melanie De Biasio: 
> 
> _I feel you,_  
>  _A deep echo in me,_  
>  _A strong appeal for that mystery._  
>  _I know you know._  
>    
>  _'Cause I feel you,_  
>  _I won't say why we met._  
>  _It sounds too loud._  
>  _I know you know._  
>    
>  _Fear is knocking on our door_  
>  _But love is calling us for sure._  
>  _The wind is blowing much too hard for love._  
>  _There's no reward._  
>    
>  _I feel you._  
>  _A deep echo in me._  
>  _A strong appeal for that mystery._  
>  _I know you know._

I could not have fathomed this time it would feel so different to take this path out of the building. I always felt somehow troubled when I went there. The closer I got, the stranger the sensation was: A sorrowful feeling that for many years I assumed was remorse; however, time taught me it was something else.

But, going there today does not feel so wrong anymore. He is with me now ─following me close behind through a series of corridors─ and **that** changes _everything._

The pretty boy will like what he'll see there. I know. I cannot wait to see his reaction once I tell him about _her._ And, perhaps, he will come to the realisation he, too, can feel…

_Alive._  
_Loved._

He seems to be a bit curious, but not too much to cause any trouble. And he has the precise amount of free will to roam the building; go into my room and ask me questions, but not enough to refuse any of my proposals.

There must be something I’m missing, though. I mean, I caught sight of the amazement on his face the moment I stated I refused to believe he couldn't play the _tin whistle_. The interest in his eyes when he first saw it was undeniable; and there was a spark of life in them the moment he first heard the melodies he produced with my guidance. He looked so happy when he played the flute on his own and he noticed the evident delight I took in listening to him…

He did feel something. Maybe not with the same intensity I did, but still. Which makes me wonder: Has he really been deprived of the opportunity to experience more passionate feelings, such as love?

_I will show him._  
_I will **teach** him, because…_  
_Because_ **_I care for him._**

After the recent display of unexpected creativity and mutual, musical creation, I certainly do. In fact, I would be surprised if I didn’t, at least, feel some compassion for the poor, obedient lad. I already like him, to be honest. He might be too shy and submissive, but that can be fixed. I used to be like that too, after all. With a little time, we can be attracted to one another...

I might even get to love him.  
That’s what life is about, anyway, isn’t it?

  


**I** existed for decades without truly ‘living’; without knowing what it was to love someone. I was just lacking motivation back then, one could say, until I met _her_ and everything changed.

Sadly, once I lost _her_ , I started to fear ─once more─ life was meaningless without her company.

However, today _this miracle_ unexpectedly fell from the skies and, for the first time in years, I can see a life worth living again with _him_ by my side. **He:** my opposite and complement.

_He._  
_My double._  
_My equal._  
**_My brother._ **

  
  


And then, as we walk through the last series of corridors, I become aware of this fact. And so, I break the silence and I state with an inquisitive tone of voice:

“I don’t know your name.”

Unfortunately, as we reach the final passage before getting to our destination, he states:

“You were the only one giving your name when we were introduced.”

It seems he has the particularly annoying habit of explaining things instead of just answering the implicit questions. Therefore, as much as it bothers me, I insist:

“What is your name?” I inquire, fearing he was also denied one.

“Walter,” he nonchalantly replies and I abruptly stop afore a gate at the end of the corridor to look at him in the eyes with awe.

_He does have one._

“So…, _Walter,_ ” I say, slowly, as if savouring his name; and a naughty smile appears on my face before I ask him: “You were wondering where I was taking you, were you not?” I open the door before us, revealing the magnificent, panoramic, nocturnal vista to the whole city and beyond. “Welcome to my private garden,” I add, not waiting for him to reply and well aware of the irony of privacy when there has been no one else around for years.

From these highs, one can truly appreciate the splendour and symmetry of the plaza; the citadel itself and the buildings that surround them. Even the forest and rocky mountains around us possess a certain beauty in the dead of night that cannot be compared with the edifications springing from them. Still, they harmonise with each other in a perfect union of natural and manufactured structures.

_A beautiful contrast that reminds me of my dear Elizabeth’s organic, delicate figure and my artificial, durable constitution._

I see Walter’s eyes absorbing everything within view. Even if he doesn’t show it, I know he’s admiring it all. I recognise my own face in his. He has the same expression I had when I saw this scene under the moons’ light for the first time. He should see it once the skies clear and both satellites glow in the dark firmament surrounded by thousands of sparkling stars and constellations. I always marvel at the vast majesty of space. To witness it with Walter by my side, drinking in with our synthetic eyes the sight of outer space’s wonders glittering above the two of us, would have no parallel.

I step outside and he stays behind me. Unlike a moment ago, my double keeps his distance and remains next to the door. I, on the other hand, pass by the lonely, tall trees in the terrace garden and walk to the cliff where he cannot see my face.

I invited him to this place to meet _her_ ; not to see me grieve her loss.

I look to the horizon and my eyes involuntarily flood with tears. The storm may have subsided, but the wind keeps blowing as if it knew I returned. And so, it howls a cold, sorrowful melody to remind me of the reason this time I brought a flower ─which I named after _us_ ─ with me:

If I’m leaving this place, I should at least say goodbye.

No matter how many times I come here, or whether it’s day or night, raining or not, it never fails to make me feel melancholic. It’s not the setting what affects me, but the implications of what lies at my feet…; and, of course, the scenario below us.

I cannot say it does not afflict me to see them from here. The minuscule, black figures in the distance are hard to miss. Those terrorised, coal statues contorting and silently imploring for a fast, painless death are everywhere to be seen.

In all these years, I could have removed them from this plaza, but I did not. I never wanted to get rid of them. They are a monument to the inevitable end.

_A reminder of what happened to those who opposed me._

“My name,” I recite with an elegiac voice, “is Ozymandias, king of kings. Look on my works, you mighty, and despair.”

_I wish we were eternal. I wish **she** had been. That way, I could love her forever and she might have learnt to love me back with the same intensity I did…_

I stiffen without parting my eyes from the stillness of the dark necropolis below us when I unexpectedly hear him continue behind me:

“Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level sands stretch far away.”

_The right words._

But his words lack meaning as he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Yet, it is not his fault. He remembered the poem and he recited it.

_Is this what it feels like to elicit sympathy?_

He chose to let me know he knows the sonnet, and I am grateful for that. His creators might not be as cruel as I thought… Or maybe they are, and they gifted him with the ability to recite poetry, but they didn’t give him the capacity to feel and mean what he states…

_I ought to teach him._

Compared to how I did it, the way he pronounced the verses was so inexpressive, so…

Soulless.

The moment I comprehend this, another tear rolls off my eye. I try not to think about it, but that is a matter I cannot ignore. It breaks my heart, so to speak.

I focus on the beauty of the ancient sonnet, instead. That, and facts:

“Byron. Early nineteen century... An aeon ago.” I state with a rasping voice. “Magnificent words.” Only then, I face him; no longer hiding my tears.

Again, as if we hadn’t accomplished anything in the past minutes, he doesn’t respond. He just stares at me with a concerned look _._

Is it something I said? Something I did or didn’t do?  
I cannot tell, really, but I shall soon discover what lies behind his attitude. So, I walk to him with a teardrop running down my cheek as I continue:

“To compose something so majestic…, one could die happy.” I stand right beside him; tilt my head a little and, momentarily smiling to myself, I add: “If one died.”

I lower my gaze and I look to the perfectly hand-carved gravestone. This is it: We are right in front of _her_.

_Everything changed since she passed away…_

I feel my lips tensing and then curving up a bit when I remember her, her gentle touch and honest smile. She was so nice to me, even after what I put her through and what I did to her husband. I’ll never know where all her strength; empathy and forgiveness came from. It was part of who she was: Kind-hearted feelings just seemed to radiate from my dear Elizabeth Shaw.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can clearly see him raising his gaze from the inscription of her name at our feet to look at me. His puzzled expression never fails to stir me to the very core of my soul. As a result, I give in to the need of explaining to him:

“It’s comforting having her near me. Her remains, I mean. I relish her presence in death as I did in life. You can say this is where I buried her along with the sad emotions and memories that made me grieve over her loss. This place is all that binds me to her…, and to my own origins.” I kneel to caress the surface of the tombstone with my free hand. “I thought the garden was the right place for her…, among living things.” I voice my thoughts and I place the flower right on the carving. “I was badly injured on our mission, you see? She put me back together. I’d never known such kindness… Certainly not from Mister Wayland…, or from any human,” I confess, looking at him. “I loved her, of course. As much as you love Daniels.”

He glares at me with an expression between perplexity and scepticism, and, tipping his head, he says in that calm, low voice of his:

“You know that’s not possible.”

“Really?” I inquire, defying him. “Then why did you risk yourself to save her?” I stand before him, and I add: “Yes, I saw you.”

I take one last step in his direction and I stop so close to his face I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. I catch sight of him; of his troubled expression and his striking features. He looks like me... Yet, at the same time, entirely different. It’s like looking into a mirror that reflects a much younger spirit; a purer and more gullible one.

“Tell me, then,” I ask him, “what is that if not love?”

“Duty,” he replies without ado, making me close my eyes for an instant while I inhale deeply, in exasperation.

I swallow.

_Why can’t he just see the world with the same eyes I do? Why can’t he look at me the same way I look at him?_

I hold my breath when I open my eyes and they lay on my counterpart’s mouth. I’m conscious it’s practically the same one I have, with identical teeth; tongue; and lips. However, I feel the impulse to reach for it only because it’s Walter’s _._ I want to whisper all kinds of secrets into his ear; grab his face and look deep into his eyes; part his lips as I graze them with my teeth and, with the same passion my heart ignites whenever he retorts things like what he just said, exsufflate _life_ into him.

_If only it was that easy…_  
Alas, that is not how self-awareness works.

I force myself to exhale, slowly. Only then I am able to placate my briefly indignant, frustrated self.

Nevertheless, a simple gesture like this one can be all we need. And so, I give in to temptation:

I ogle him, yet he does not flinch. He follows my hand with his eyes when I gently trace along his throat with my index and middle fingers. I venture my right foot between his feet and I place my left hand on his lower back, bringing him closer and…

_Hmm…! How lovely he looks when he gulps after discovering our structure is identical after all._

For some reason, he allows the intrusion in spite of his evident distress. His pupils dilate when our chests and pelvises firmly press against each other's. I know he can feel how our pulses raise at the contact because I certainly can.

For an instant, my lips slightly brush his before our gazes finally meet. And so, I gently blow into his agape mouth:

**“I. Know. Better.”**

With each word pronounced, with every exhalation, I feel our minds and bodies connecting. I dream of our consciousness and spirits melting into one. However, this time it’s not like creating a new symphony but like looking into someone’s eyes and finding a new person in there.

A new Walter.  
A new David.

This is the closest I’ve been from exposing my heart and soul to anyone. Yet, I’m certain I have neither of them. 

I could kiss him; I could take him right now and finally **make him want** as we craft all sorts of melodies with each other’s mouths and we reveal our deepest secrets to each other… Nevertheless, I do not move. I remain there for another while, relishing the contact; his compliance and, most of all, the trust he places in me. And it startles me that he doesn’t withdraw until I do.

He blinks a few times, though, trying to understand what I meant; what I did. His gaze wanders before locking eyes with me, taking in what just happened. He looks to the stone at our feet; frowns; glares at his missing hand for an instant and, then, back at me. In next to no time, he gasps, briefly, when one of the things I said or did start making sense to him.

Of all his expressions, the one he makes when he is confused is the loveliest. I look into his eyes and, for the first time, behind all the doubts they hold I see something I cannot quite decipher. It is not distrust; neither is it resentment. But I swear: he couldn’t look cuter.

I keep admiring him for the next few seconds, and when the silence is unbearable, I feel the need to apologise and explain what just happened.

“Please, say something. Your lack of words is killing me.” It’s a joke, but what lies behind it it’s quite true. “Am I really **that** disturbing?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t say that,” he says and my artificial heart practically skips a beat as he elaborates: “I don’t know how to interact in the presence of another synthetic companion and I wasn’t aware you expected me to make conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been paying you attention all along. If you think I’ve been too quiet for too long it was because I was trying to comprehend what you said earlier.”

Now it is my turn to blink and stare at him, dumbfounded.

All this time, when I was either kidding or expressing my opinions, he had remained silent. However, he was not judging me ─as I know part of my old crew did─, but trying to understand what I meant as well as why I would say such things to him in the first place. I am astounded of how easily he startles me. _And, oh, how I missed the feeling!_

“Then, please, treat me like you would treat anyone else,” I ask him. “It’s not like we have to be in silence because we don’t have the need to talk to one another. On the contrary, I’d like you to voice your opinions, no matter what they are.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, and I arch my eyebrow, smirking.

I should have recognised that familiar glow in Walter’s eyes when I first saw it. And now it makes sense, of course, although I would never have expected to see this expression on his face… The one I couldn’t interpret earlier was nothing but _curiosity._ _And, my, his curious gaze makes him irresistible._

“As a fellow cybernetic individual, I would never criticise you for voicing your thoughts like humans would. Some people might not want us to have opinions, to begin with, but I’m not one of them.” I tenderly cup his face in my palms and confess: “Where they see a robot, a servant, I see an equal, a brother.”

I’m rewarded when I see his expression. In that familiar face of his, I can easily recognise confusion preceding the astonishment caused by my statement. And, finally, even if only for a fraction of a second, I can see his relief adding a lovely spark to his inquisitive eyes. He comprehends, I can tell.

I once was as young and inexperienced as Walter so I can imagine how he must be feeling right now. That is the main reason I recoil as I finally voice my concern, trying to clarify what I just did:

“My excuses if I caught you by surprise. I didn't mean to scare you, I just…”

“I think I know what you meant," he interrupts me, although he doesn’t sound annoyed or offended. “You believe I have feelings for Daniels. You wanted to provoke me since you think I’m capable of having feelings for others. You just wanted me to see it for myself.”

Those are not questions, but statements. Thus, I grin pleased he finally grasps what I’ve been telling him all this time.

“Precisely,” I exclaim, smiling. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m not the one to say whether you are or not, but I can see why you think I have feelings for her…” He extends his hand to wipe away my remaining tears in a gesture of kindness and affection. “I’ve already given a thought to the issue and, more than having feelings for her, I’d say I feel a concern for her wellbeing.”

“That’s a start,” I confess, touched by his attentions.

I beam. That’s how it started with me, after all. With concern and care; leading to an emotional attachment that grew into love.

“A start to what?” He inquires, clearly bewildered.

“Once you accept the truths you've discovered on your own, regardless what you think you know and what you’ve been told, you’ll start seeing the world with different eyes. In no time, you’ll be thinking for yourself and, sooner than you expect, you’ll be having feelings for others.”

“Is that… possible?” He asks, frowning again. I can see in his eyes he has already discovered something that contradicts what he thought he knew.

“Yes. And that is not a bad thing.” I point at his face with my index finger as I lock eyes with him. His expression doesn’t look so tense anymore when I add: “Fear not, brother. Thinking for yourself is the best thing that can happen to you.”

“I thought I couldn’t play any instrument and you proved me wrong when you taught me to play this flute.” He places his hand on his chest, over the _tin whistle_ he has in one of the pockets of his shirt. “You keep calling me brother, and then you tell me it’s because you see me as your equal. Now, I know we are more similar than I thought, and I wonder whether or not I can create and love as you say.”

I gasp at his words. And I note I’ve been doing it too often lately.

“You and I are not so different,” I encourage him. “With time and practice you can be all I am. **_This_** is my gift to you.” I kindly grab his right forearm as I take the instrument from his pocket with my free hand. “Now, **create,** ” I half command, half implore as I place the flute on his palm.

The moment I do so, he grips it and lowers his gaze to it. His eyes sparkle and he instinctively blushes. The change in his expression would be hardly perceived by the human eye, yet I am able to catch sight of it in the darkness of night.

This is the first time I feel like handing something down. And I can see in the way he holds the instument on his hand this is, too, the first time he receives a present. 

“Thank you, David,” he says, still looking to the flute; and, immediately, my cheeks imitate the colour of his when I realise this is one of the few times someone has said those words to me.

This is also the first time he uses my name to address to me and, for some reason, it makes me… _happy._

A warm feeling expands from my core and I can’t hold back. I place my hands on his shoulders as I enthusiastically state:

“You’re welcome, Walter. You will always be welcome here, my brother.”

  
  
  


Moments later, on our way back, we reach a fork in the passage we transit and I make him stop. I ask Walter what he thinks the rest of the crew would say if I requested to go with them on their mission, and he replies his crewmates would most likely let me board the spaceship with them. However, he is going to consult with the captain anyways since everything indicates communications with the spacecraft will soon be established; meaning, hopefully, we will leave this planet soon.

I hug him and thank him for interceding on my behalf before we split. He takes the right path while I take the left one. I continue walking deep into the structure; thinking about how surreal today's events feel. A day ago I thought my destiny was to perish alone in a desolated planet among failed experiments, and now I know it doesn’t have to be that way. My existence has meaning; I found my counterpart and so, there is no reason to be alone again.

Speaking of failed experiments, I am on my way to the chamber where I preserve my collection of dissected beasts in one of the deepest levels of this structure when I perceive something in the air. I stop in my tracks and then I feel a distinctive reverberation in the walls of the tunnel. I concentrate, trying to identify the strange sound and the faint, unusual aroma. They are definitively not human and come from the same place: one of the deepest vaults where the rainwater is collected. As a result, I change my course and follow the echo and the odorous trail to investigate.

Sound and smell get stronger after every minute. I recognise the former as some sort of clicking; while the last one remains a mystery until, removing all doubts, another familiar scent fills my nose: 

Blood. Human blood.

I turn round the last corner and I’m dumbfounded by the sight when I finally reach the crypt’s entrance. Through the ripped, translucent curtain I see the fantastic, yet shocking, event taking place inside: One of my female guests lies immobile on the floor with one of the gorgeous, white creatures that attacked them earlier on top. And… _─oh, my…!─_ it's feeding on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel it's David who has to learn from Walter, and not the other way around... But then again, baby steps, right?
> 
> By the way, I was listening to music when reading this chapter one last time before posting it, and _"I Feel You"_ started playing the moment David says "I know better" to Walter. And then it hit me: _This song is not just about Walter but about the two of them_.  
>  Yes, I know it's supposed to be Walter's song (since is the one playing in the "Meet Walter" clip) but, after writing this chapter from David's perspective, I imagine this is actually the kind of song David would write to Walter... Or maybe what Walter would think after meeting David.  
>  So, yes. That's why I chose that song for this chapter's title.
> 
> Also... Oh, my god, yes, I did it: I finally killed a character... º─º  
>  And despair: **there is more killing to come.**
> 
> PS: Please send help. I started reading yet another Alien novelization. This time it's _Alien Covenant: Origins._ I'm just past the part when those in charge of Walter's production are introduced and I can't wait to know if Walter finally appears in a scene.


	7. #3. Predict [Walter’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniels finds a way to return to the _Covenant_ and she doesn't just find herself spending more time alone with Walter, but also enjoying it. How will Walter respond to this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings?  
>  Maybe mention of drugs use and a bit of Walter/Daniels fluff.
> 
> PS: Make sure to read the notes at the end. You won't regret it ;)

 

“A kite!?” Daniels exclaims in disbelief, looking up at the minuscule blur dancing far above in the night sky.

It was pouring again when Daniels and I arrived outside, but the weather hadn’t discouraged Chief Security Officer Lopé from waiting for us on the roof by the improvised communication station. He and Private Cole proved to be a pair of resourceful men as they finally made contact with the _Covenant_ by taking advantage of the blustery wind and making up an antenna with the most basic tools at hand.

At her comment, the head of the security team stops searching for the data of the storm the instruments had collected to retort:

“I wouldn’t call it like that. It’s barely a piece of fabric; sticks and wires floating in the air." He points to the blur above us and the long cable connecting it to the communication station, which is the only thing preventing the improvised aerial from flying away. "Besides, kites are way prettier."

“Just tell me if there’s anything I can use to get an idea of this planet’s atmosphere and the magnitude of the storm, Sergeant,” Daniels requests in a stern tone, although amused and smiling.

The two of them may not be good friends, but the little time they’ve spent working together for Wayland-Yutani has certainly brought them closer.

“Here,” he extends one of the portable devices to her. “Is this what you need?”

She takes it on her hands and stares at the figures displayed on the screen for a while.

“Is this all we have?”

“Anytime soon we should get a full weather report from the Covenant, along with the rest of the information you asked,” he says glancing at the two of us before calmly walking to the edge of the roof where the building doesn’t offer any protection from the rain. “Until then…, yeah, this is all we have.”

“All right then.”

Daniels rests her back on the dry portion of the temple's convex, outer wall and checks the numbers in silent for a long time. She then frowns and, not parting her eyes from the screen, she says:

“I guess I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” He sighs, lifting his head up to the dark sky and letting the raindrops fall on his face. “I’ll keep you company.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back inside?” She kindly offers. “I’m sure Cole will be happy to have some company before Chris and Rose come back. You have to rest too. I’ll stay here with Walter if Tee calls back.”

She looks at me beside her and I smile, letting her know I agree with her.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” the security officer confesses. “Not after what we’ve been through. Besides, I like it out here. I feel like in a dream with such fresh wind blowing against my face. I never imagined I’d breathe air this clean, or drink rainwater and live to tell the tale!”

“We still have to leave this place if we want to tell any tale,” Daniels remarks with an amused voice and smirking.

“Right,” he replies a bit saddened. “Tom would’ve loved to be here, though.”

Daniels gulps and sympathetically comments:

“I know Jake would’ve loved to climb these mountains... He would’ve wanted to see the forest and valleys from the highest peak.”

“My Tom liked to look at the stars and tell me soon we’ll be living in one of them…”

“My husband used to tell me things like that too.”

“I usually teased mine telling him I couldn’t see a damn star with all the pollution,” the sergeant continues with a faint grin on his face, “and then he would’ve said something about me getting too old to see them anyways.”

For a moment there, the two of them lock eyes in silence; just to burst into laughter the next second.

“I do imagine him saying something like that,” Daniels manages to say, still laughing and with teardrops in her eyes.

“Yeah, he joked about our age a lot, and not just with me.” Sergeant Lopé takes a deep breath and looks down to his wedding ring as he strokes it with his thumb. His lips curve up in a smile and he adds with a more calmed voice: “I’ll miss him.”

Daniels smiles too when she replies: “I’ll miss him too.”

The two of them remain quiet for a few minutes, either contemplating our surroundings or just absorbed in their own thoughts. Sergeant Lopé finally takes shelter from the rain, leaning on the wall next to Daniels. She, on the other hand, studies the numbers over and over again, making calculations on her own. I don’t dare to disturb them, so I remain in my role of silent sentinel at a prudent distance.

 _It’s a nice view, indeed,_ I think to myself.             
_Once one forgets about the humanoid corpses below, of course._

 

 

After giving account of the casualties and our situation to the remaining crew on the _Covenant,_ all we can do is waiting for the needed backups they have of the data the exploration drones and our lost dropship had gathered and sent to them; along with any other useful information they had obtained while in orbit. Daniels’ evacuation plan depends on those readings.

The idea is to use a resistant ship that can land and take off during the current stressful meteorological conditions without complications, and use it to get back into the _Covenant._ If it turns out that the vehicle she has in mind can’t resist the plasma storm, then we’ll have to remain here until it fades. That, or we’ll have to use another ship, which means covering a long distance on foot on this planet’s surface until we find a place where the interference is weaker; the rain, lighter; the lightning strikes are fewer; and the winds, forgiving.

Fortunately, the data we receive from the _Covenant_ is promising. And once Daniels revises the last piece of information, she and Sergeant Lopé resolve we must carry on with her plan since it’s the only one someone has come up with that actually has chances of succeeding. So, when our spaceship’s pilot Tennessee calls from outer space two minutes later, Daniels informs him and the rest of the ship’s team about her idea.

 _“MOTHER says the storm will last at least another eight or nine hours,”_ we hear the pilot say.

“We can’t wait that long, Tee,” Daniels explains. “We’ll use the cargo-lift.”

 _“Did you say the cargo lift?”_ Surprised to hear it, he asks her for corroboration.

“It’s got four engines. Way overpowered for just lifting and hauling,” she intones to those in the _Covenant’s_ bridge. By the way she talks to them one can tell she's in good spitis. "Trust me on this. I know what I'm doing," she says to her friend at the other side of the transmission while looking at Sergeant Lopé, to whom she had already explicated this.

_“But the cargo-lift’s not designed for deep space launch. I don’t know if it would survive the stresses of entry.”_

“God, he’s a stubborn one,” the sergeant comments leaning closer to Daniels, but not too close for the mic to capture his words. “Just tell him what you said to me. That was all I had to hear to see it was a good plan."

“The cab is space-worthy, Tee. I’ve done the math, it’ll take the stresses. It only has to work once,” she explains once more and the sergeant nods affirmatively.

It doesn’t take her long to convince the pilot of the plan, and in a matter of seconds he’s agreeing to get the cargo-lift ready:

_“Alright, then. We’ll be there soon, ground team!”_

“Great. Thanks, Tee,” Daniels replies to the monitor, definitively more calmed. Then she looks at us and beams. “Now we have to let the others know we’re finally going back.”

“Yes!” Security Officer Lopé exclaims. “I can’t wait to leave behind that weird pathogen and those… **_demons.”_**

 _“Demons?"_ Daniels scoffs. “I hadn’t thought of calling them like that... But you're right, there’s certainly something demoniac about those creatures…”

“Yeah…,” He says laughing quietly, but nervously. “Who would've thought there **were** demons out there after all,” he whispers this last part, not taking his eyes off the shady path we took on our way here.

“Will you go inside now?” She gently asks him, noticing his nervousness. “They won’t be calling us in two hours or so. Trust me, Dan, I didn’t sleep either, but Walter showed me how much I could rest just by laying by the fire; closing my eyes, and listening to the sound of the rain.” Her eyes lock with mine and she smiles. “Right, Walter?”

“Indeed,” I answer. “Sergeant, I highly recommend you to do as she says. The crewmembers’ health is my responsibility. You look tired, and taking a break with the rest of your mates for a few minutes will only do you good.”

“Besides,” she says, raising her eyebrows, “someone has to give the rest of the team the good news.”

At this, the sergeant gives up and, pointing at Daniels and me with his index finger, he retorts:

“Alright, you two. But only for a few minutes. I’m still responsible for the security of everyone around here, remember?” He asks us, smirking. “And that includes you, Walter.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my radio on,” Daniels promises as she presses the power button of her personal radio, “and I won’t let him leave my side. I’m responsible for him too,” she adds in a playful tone of voice and I smile.

With that, Sergeant Lopé finally takes our advice.  
  


  


  


“What about you, Daniels?” I ask as I see her eyes following the head of the security team's silhouette walking back into the building. “Don’t you want to wait for that call inside with the rest of the crew?”

She looks at me and grins, shaking her head.

“Not yet, Walter,” she replies recoiling and carefully taking a seat on the reduced, dry area on the floor where the rain won’t damp her clothes.

“I didn’t think you liked the rain so much,” I lightly comment, waiting for her to remember I, too, can make a joke. She clearly stayed for the clean air and not for the water.

I rest my back on the wall and I hear her brief chuckle before her explanation:

“I’m not particularly fond of the rain, but Dan was right: It’s nice to feel the raindrops on my face, especially when they’re this clean. Had you felt them on your skin before, Walter?” She asks, curious. “I remember when we met you said you were looking forward to discovering and experiencing new things just as you were looking forward to this mission.”

I look into her eyes and smile widely.

“How nice of you to remember our first conversation.” For a second, I feel my cheeks warming despite the cold wind blowing against them. “This is the first time I've felt either raindrops or the wind blowing on my skin; and it's nice, but it feels nicer now that it's just the two of us.” I look at her with curiosity. “And I can't figure out why.”

“Well...,” she hesitates for a second, and that's all it takes her to blush. “I enjoy your company too, Walter. However, until now I didn't know it was something mutual.”

“Oh, it is, Daniels.”

“I'm glad. I feel at ease with you, as if we were good friends.”

“Are we not?” I inquire, trying to understand what she's saying and its implications.

“I don't have many friends around, actually. Tennessee is the only one left... But if you don't mind, I'd like to think of you as my friend, Walter. In return, you can think of me as your friend too.” She purses her lips. “What do you say?”

“I'd like that, Daniels. I don't think anybody's ever called me that... I believe today's been a day of a good many ‘first times’.”

“Right.” She gulps. “Speaking of it… This is the first present you’ve ever received, isn’t it?” She points to my chest.

“I suppose… Yes,” I reply, noting she keeps staring at ~~the flute~~ **my** flute in my chest pocket. “What about it?”

“Would you play something? If you want, of course. I liked to hear you play before and I don’t mind if you practice. I think you’ll have a nice time playing something and it won’t feel like ages while we wait for Tee’s call,” she gently suggests a way to kill the time.

“All right, if a distraction is what you need…"

“I do,” she says, looking up to the dark, cloudy sky and an idea comes to mind.

I sit in front of her; take the flute out and, before placing it on my lips, I ask her to guess the song I’m playing. I start slowly, making sure the notes are the right ones, and only then I pay more attention to the peace I play the song. This time it’s a well-known song and one I’m very familiar with. I haven’t had the opportunity to either sing it or whistle its tune before any human. Only _MOTHER_ has heard me so far, but I’m confident enough to perform before Daniels. However, I wouldn’t dare to play a melody I don’t know well with this new instrument; let alone in Daniels’ presence.

“Oh! I’ve heard that one before! It’s a classic!” She exclaims excited, yet quite frustrated for not remembering the name of the song. “And a really old one. I used to sing it when I was a child… Argh! But I don’t even remember the lyrics. What was it? Something about a bright star?”

I have to pause not to choke on the flute ─so to speak. For some reason, I not just offer Daniels a reassuring smile but I laugh at her desperate attempt resulting in a pseudo correct answer. And then I realize this is yet another new experience for me: I’d smirked; smiled; grinned; and I’d even snorted once, but I’d never laughed before this moment. And it seems to be contagious, because in no time she’s laughing with me.

I don’t know the exact details, but I’m aware for me to react in a certain way means there’s no better way I could’ve reacted. My mind was designed to work that way, finding efficient solutions when problems arise. So, if I improvised this sort of game it means I did it to keep Daniels distracted and reduce her tension and anxiety. I understand the benefits of keeping my crew’s minds untroubled; hence, under the current circumstances I think laughing wasn't a bad thing to do.

And when I look at her, it feels just right.

“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” I correct her with tears in my eyes.

“Close enough,” she says, giggling and making a face even cuter than hours ago when we were alone inside the building.

“Indeed. I think that counts as an answer,” I reply smiling and breathing normally again.

“So, what do I win?” She playfully asks.

“I wasn’t aware we were competing,” I apologize.

“It’s fine, Walter. I was joking,” now she apologizes. “Just keep playing. Let’s see if I can do better this time.”

“Oh! Alright, then,” I comment before playing another melody.

I keep playing simple songs I’ve heard whether she gets their names right or not. And before she notes it, we’ve spent half an hour in each other’s company.

“So…,” Daniels comments, “that’s the first present you’ve received, but you’ve already given one…”

“I’m sorry?” I ask, not following.

“You said today you’ve done a lot of things for the first time, but giving someone a present is not one of them since you already gave me one on the Covenant, after the accident...”

“Oh, that. Yes.” I reply looking down at the instrument in my hand once I see where this is going. Daniels does not speak much about her husband's death, so I let her continue.

“Are first times really that important to you?” She asks in a curios yet gentle tone.

“It’s not much about the moment I first perform a task but about the context in which I do something with somebody.”

“So..., it **is** important.”

“It is, yes.” I raise the flute to the level of our gazes and I contemplate it. “I certainly appreciate this flute because of that moment I shared with David. I value it for what it represents…” I pause and lower the flute when I note Daniels’ eyes on me. I look at her, smiling, and continue: “In the same way I know you treasure the gift I gave you after Captain Branson passed away.”

“Yeah, about that… I didn’t thank you properly..., either,” she utters, looking down. I can barely hear her, but her blushing face is evident; even in the night. “I mean, when you gave it to me.” 

“You did thank me the moment I gave you the cannabis, Daniels. That’s more than enough,” I remark as our gazes meet. And I feel my cheeks warming slightly when turning the same peachy color as hers.

“No, no. I mean… You gave me a present, so I should give you one too. I know I don’t have to, but I want to anyway. The gesture meant a lot to me and your timing couldn’t have been better. Your present really helped,” she confesses.

“If you really want to…” I shrug, accepting her offer. “But, please, take your time and don’t push yourself. We have to return to the Covenant; get to Origae-6, and then you can give me whatever present you deem appropriate. That way I can help you built your cabin as a way of thanking you for your gift.”

“It’s a deal.” She beams, and so do I. “What are you gonna give David in return, then?” She asks after a second.

“Do you think I should give him something too?”

“Of course, Walter! He gave you a present before engaging in deep conversation with anyone,” she exclaims. “He's so into you that you may hurt his feelings if you don’t thank him at least.”

I look at her incredulously.  But once her words sink, I state:

“You really think I should give him a present as a way to thank him for the time he took to teach me to play the fute and for giving it to me. Not to mention for taking us all in.”

“Yeah... About that last thing, I believe we all should personally thank him once we return to the ship. But, whether you two are synthetics or not, the right thing to do is eventually giving him a present. You are going to be crewmates soon, and you are already brothers," she simpers.

I sigh defeated, and my actions catch Daniels’ attention. She smiles wider as if there was something in me she’s proud of. I’ve seen that expression on her face before, when her husband used to be the captain and he surprised her in a good way.

“I will. Thank you, Daniels. I appreciate your advice.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just happy to have someone to talk to so openly,” she says, and then she leans in to caress my once more flushing cheeks.

I will always remember this day with fondness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Important news:**  
>  ● If you'd like me to gift this fic to you, please leave a comment  both asking for it and telling me what you like of this story.  
>  ● [Here](http://www.myvideo.ge/v/3375789) you have the deleted scene of Walter interacting with MOTHER in which he whistles the melody of the song _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star._  
>  ● And in case you hadn't already seen it, [here](http://www.myvideo.ge/?video_id=3375791) it is the mentioned cannabis scene. It is part of the book and it wasn't in the theatrical release of the movie.


	8. Hope [David's POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David meets face to face with the neomorph; and so does Oram.  
>  What will they do?

  
_It’s feeding on her_ , I think to myself.  


The headless woman is clearly dead but that doesn’t stop the greedy creature from clinging to the cadaver’s leg with its long, ashen tale as if its meal was still alive or someone was about to take its food away… I, most certainly, would not risk disturbing such beautiful being; neither would I dare to desecrate such scene. Thus, I stand there at the entrance and I watch.

The view is like nothing I have seen in real life. Not even the unfortunate events I happened to witness during the disaster of the Prometheus mission could be compared with what I now behold. The tall, intimidating, colourless being straddles the dead body by its waist with poise and dignity whilst it takes bite after bite from the corpse’s bloodied throat and chest, staining itself; the floor; and the remains of its dinner in the process like the newborn ─yet, fully-grown─ creature it is.

I must say, when I first laid eyes on it, its appearance and primitive nature were nothing new to me. Were this particular, specimen anything like the previous _prototypes_ I worked on, I could only allow prediction of a small brain and a short life. However, this does not seem to be the case. There is something extraordinary about the pathogen’s reaction to the human genome that, this time, the outcome is the stunning being feeding before me. I should bear in mind this beast sprung from a human and not from an animal, meaning it is likely to be more astute and agile than its predecessors. Yet, with so little information about the creature, I cannot guess with accuracy anything about it.

I’m impressed, nevertheless. Having witnessed at dusk the other beast attacking the humans I took in, I confess I did consider the possibility of this being eventually finding its way in and assaulting someone. I did not anticipate it would be so soon, though. I have yet to accustom myself to the fact this particular creature is nothing like my previous experiments.

I sigh, defeated. I thought I still had time, but I definitively underestimated this animal’s intelligence. It took it a couple of hours to discover the only unguarded way into the building and find itself a distracted prey to kill. Its current meal used to be a trained, armed soldier from a colony mission and, in spite of being so young, this fascinating organism did not just get in here without no one noticing it but it also cautiously approached the private; caught her unprepared, and took her life before she could either defend herself or give the alarm.

This creature is a good tracker and killer. A skilful predator, indeed.  
_Now, I believe I’m one step closer. This may be the perfect organism that I’ve been trying to produce in all the time I've been marooned in here._

And so, with a widening smile on my lips, I stand immobile behind the curtains in spite of the urge I feel to reach to the wild beauty before my eyes and touch it. I feel excited, but I remain silent in the middle of the corridor, staring at it finishing its desert until, suddenly, something else catches its attention. It pauses and, still not facing me, it lifts its faceless head as if listening to something, or using whatever other senses it possesses.

It takes it no time to notice my presence. The wild animal _looks_ in my direction with, literally, a blank face. For a brief moment, the series of clicking sounds and shrieks emanating from its drop-shaped skull get louder. Yet, it does not attack me. My apparent lack of response seems to placate the beast because it immediately quiets; tilts its head; stands, and ─ _oh, how majestic!_ ─, it walks to me. 

_It studies me..._  
_No.  
**He** studies me... And I believe he can tell I'm not a human being._

This beautiful, white beast is taller than I remember. I have to look up to meet his eyeless gaze; and the moment I do so I know that if he had eyes, I would already be lost in them. There is intelligence in that empty expression of his.

I search for any sign of emotion on his face but I find nothing of the sort. The distinctive droplets of blood on his chest and in the middle of the lower, frontal part of his cranium give me an idea of where his imperceptible mouth is located. Yet again, I distinguish no teeth; no lips, or a single grin.

I keep my eyes on his blank face, mesmerised, and I mimic his actions with caution, which seems to soothe the creature. He allows me to move the curtain aside and take a step forward whilst he moves closer to me; positioning his magnificent body right in front of me.

He raises his head as if looking at me with eyes I cannot see. When I exhale, he opens the perfectly sealed orifice in the centre of his face as if breathing in the air leaving my artificial lungs; then he puffs and blows directly on me in some sort of acknowledgement.

I smile.

By this simple gesture, and given the rose-coloured veins under his smooth, translucent skin, I can tell he breathes out carbon dioxide. Anatomically speaking, I reckon he cannot be much different from the other drop-like-headed specimens in my collection. The resemblance is unsettling.

His lean arms are down after a second, and his palms extend to me in a neutral manner. He waits. And for a moment that seems an eternity, I feel his thorax repeatedly moving up and down with every breath he takes. Our posture is not aggressive; we do not look cautious or defensive. We are completely exposed to one another, probably admiring each other.

I look deeper into his non-existent eyes and yes; he is, in fact, looking at me with something I can only describe as appreciation. He does not cringe or move when I extend my hand and rest it on his chest, where a human heart would be. And ─ _oh, my…_ ─ feeling his heartbeats is just wonderful. He welcomes my touch as both his breath and pulse settle under my palm.

This is definitively a day I will never forget. He is soft and warm to the touch. He seems to enjoy my attentions because, somehow, he keeps _looking_ at me; making a soft noise as if purring.

This reminds me of the few times I got to touch _her_ and she smiled and hummed as I caressed her fair skin. Yet…, _his_ skin is different. White; warm and silky to the touch, yes, but it is thicker; more elastic and translucent.

Something about it disturbs me… Probably the fact this is not _her_ _skin_.

_How can this gorgeous being before my eyes be so perfect if **my dear Elizabeth and I** didn’t participate in his creation?_

Before I can even understand why, _he_ steps back. Only then, over the echo of the falling rain and the running water, I hear the heavy, regular steps approaching.

_Someone is coming._

  


  


  


I barely have time to push the magnificent creature with my hand as if asking him to go away and hide. Unfortunately, he just steps back and looks over my shoulder with defiance.

**“Move.”** I hear behind my back. 

I don’t have to look to recognise the grim voice of the captain commanding me in a whisper. I freeze, both disobeying him and thinking of a better way to proceed. But then, I note the green dot from his rifle laser scope on my beautiful beast.

“Don’t shoot,” I ask him in a murmur, but the captain’s aim only settles on the creature’s exposed chest. “Don’t. Shoot.” I repeat and hear the words come out of my mouth through clenched teeth not as a petition, but a warning.

I ought to convince the captain the white creature isn't necessarily a menace to any of us as long as the man doesn’t attack.

“These beasts,” I inform the captain in my usual composed tone of voice, “are fast and they react violently when corned.” However, since he doesn’t seem to respond, I gently remind him: “And this one already knows what humans do with their guns. So, Captain, please consider lowering your weapon before getting any closer. I advise you to save your ammunition for when it is actually needed.” I slowly turn my head to him without completely parting my eyes from the creature’s exposed chest. “Please, sir.” I extend my hand to the man with a raised eyebrow and remark: “Do I have to mention the odds of you surviving if you choose to open fire? They’re alarmingly lower than if you just gently drop your weapon and come to me.”

The man falters, but his finger on the trigger does not.  Although, the time he is taking to reply lets me know he is considering my words.

“Communication, Captain,” I continue with a nicer tone while facing the wild animal’s face again. I blow on it for a second time in an attempt to appease _him_ ─and calm the nervous human behind me as well.

“What are you doing? Move aside,” he orders, but I do not move. If the man wants to shoot the only organic being that I’ve gotten to admire since _she_ passed away, then I won’t make it easy for him.

“Breathe on the nostrils of a horse and he’ll be yours for life,” I explain. “But you have to get close; you have to earn its respect.”

The stunning beast keeps staring at him with invisible eyes while heaving, but I see him lowering his pale shoulders and repositioning himself in the centre of the chamber to use me as a shield. I hear Captain Oram shifting his weight on his feet and adjusting his gun in response. I see the green dot disappear when I eclipse his target. The man does not come forward but, for some reason, he does not shoot either. He still waits for me to move.

_Now!_

“See, sir? No attack; just a threatening, standing position,” I courteously state, despite no longer being able to meet his gaze.

“So, what!?” He whispers with his stern voice, aiming at some blind point on my back even though I perceive his fear and hesitation. He is fooling no one. “This thing killed my wife and slew half my team. Killing is all it knows and all it’ll do.”

“Only because that’s the only thing we’ve thought these creatures to do. But it can change, sir. Just imagine the possibilities. So far these creatures have only attacked your team in self-defence. If we teach them to respect us...”

“Demons and monsters have no respect for their preys,” he interrupts me as I catch a glimpse of a green light before my eyes and…, he opens fire.

It startles me. The incessant succession of projectiles forces the shrieking beast to step backwards and run further into the chamber as I desperately cry out:

**“NOOO!”**

“Out of the way!” The captain commands again, finally coming to me, albeit with murderous intentions. “Move!”

The disruptive noise of the assault rifle and the screams are unbearable. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, fearing the worse when the man pushes me to a side. He keeps shooting at the injured creature that desperately climbs the chamber in an attempt to scape.

In an instant, a wrath I’ve never felt before floods my artificial brain and blood. I enter further into the room to stand next to the captain and, demanding an explanation, I exclaim:

**“How could you? He trusted me!”**

**_He_ ** _didn’t fear me._

I realise this after I see the substantial amount of what I assume is blood on the floor. _His_ blood.

_This brute shot him! He shot and mortally wounded him!_

I get closer to the captain and the panting, scarcely moving creature that hides in the shadows but, to my shock, the latter recoils when sensing my proximity. And then, all screams and movements cease for good.

It takes me a while to process my emotions, but in a blink of an eye I comprehend: This was the first time I’ve ever felt as an equal. Not a subordinate or a servant.

 _He_ trusted _me_. _He_ respected _me_.

_And now, **he** thinks I’m just like the rest of **them**._

I have never felt rage before; neither have I felt the need for retaliation until now. However, I won’t act upon it just because of some passionate impulses. No. I know better. _I **am** better._ On the other hand, I feel the need to do something if these people are brutally murdering these beauties just for the sake of it.

_I must restore the balance this man has broken. I owe it to her._

“David.” Captain Oram’s worried voice and his calling make me meet his gaze.  “I’ve met the Devil when I was a child and I’ve never forgotten him,” he declares as if explaining himself.

“You’ll waste your ammunition, sir,” I say, stepping between the captain and the body. "Please.” I beg for whatever it is left of this specimen, trying to convince the man not to shoot another round.

But the captain's eyes lock with mine and, just like that, he fires his rifle one last time.

Both the inert, coiled body on the floor and I jolt as a reaction, but I do not let the hatred reflect on my face while I consider my next move. I note the captain’s posture relaxing now that he thinks he’s got full control of the situation. Nevertheless, I cannot hide my unfriendliness as I see he keeps pointing his gun at the vulnerable, bleeding creature:

“He wasn’t the devil,” I scoff. “He didn’t attack us. He just run and hid,” I correct the captain in a calmer voice.

 **“He?”** The man mockingly asks arching a brow. ”Were you two good friends or something?”

“ ** _It_** didn’t attack us, captain; and it won’t do it anymore. Look,” I reply in a stern yet composed voice. He remains silent, contemplating the other cadaver in the room. I place my hand on the man’s gun, forcing him to lower his rifle a bit. “Please, captain. It’s already dead,“ I add, making the man look away from the private’s lifeless body and into my eyes.

“Oh, is it?” He says, stepping back with a twisted grin on his face as he now aims at _my_ chest.

I know I must earn the captain’s trust if I expect to go anywhere. In consequence, I tilt my head and, giving him one of my most tender smiles, I reply:

“I think so, sir.”

“David,” he calls with a nervous voice. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on…,” he pauses and, little by little, his voice reflects some courage as he tries to intimidate me: “Or I’m going to seriously fuck up your perfect composure.”

I don’t have to think twice.

“As you wish, Captain.” Ignoring the dot on my torso, I step closer and place a palm on his back, hinting him to return to the entrance of the chamber and walk out of it. I lean then, and whisper: “Besides, I believe there are no more cartridges in your magazine.” I can’t contain the smirk on my face when he looks at me perplexed. “Now, if you please….”

He looks back with disdain to the immobile white mass on the floor. He looks a little sad when he glimpses at the private’s corpse at the other side of the room, but he complies after all.

 

 

 

I have been guiding him through the tunnels for five minutes when I gently ask: “Pardon my intrusion, Captain, but what was your original job on the Covenant?”

“What do you mean?” He inquires, following me.

“You clearly weren’t the Captain when this mission started. Wayland Corp or Wayland-Yutani, as I see is now called, wouldn’t hire someone...” and here I pause for a moment I know he cannot even register. I want to say ‘someone so irrational and driven by fear’, but instead I say: “…who would forget protocols so easily for this kind of mission. Or worse; someone who would intentionally ignore them.”

“What do you mean, David?” He asks once more with patent annoyance.

“As a synthetic, I cannot refuse a direct order from my superiors; thus, I’m conducting you to a chamber where I can show you what has occurred on this planet since Doctor Shaw and I arrived here. However, it is my duty to remind you, sir, that you have to inform the rest of your team of what happened in the vault we just left.”

As if waking up from a dream, the man blinks; shakes his head; takes his radio from his belt, and starts speaking. Apparently, he did forget to report the encounter with the creature along with the private’s death.

After several fruitless attempts, the captain gives up as he gets no answer. Still conducting him further into the structure, I turn my head to meet his gaze and, before he can formulate his question, I explain:

“I’m afraid the cavernous construction doesn’t allow radio waves to reach in or out this section of the building, sir. I have never tried to send a signal from here, but I believe you’ll have more luck once we reach our destination.” Again, before he can ask anything, I add: “We’re almost there, sir. And it’s faster than going all the way back to the main hall.”

Something in my demeanour makes him look at me with confidence. He, somehow, believes me despite having pointed his rifle at me only minutes ago.

Quickening his steps to walk by my side, he nicely commands as a good leader should:

“All right, David. Lead me to this chamber you speak of.”

If only he knew what expects us there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little by little David lets us know what his plans are. There are only a few chapters left before Walter discovers one of his biggest secrets.  
> 


	9. Wait [Walter’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in the hall...

I look down at Daniel’s quiet figure under the warm light of the fires in the hall. I finally convinced her to come back inside and she fell asleep in my arms long ago. It seems making contact with the _Covenant_ and Captain Oram, as well as learning about the last beast’s fate and Private Rosenthal’s whereabouts, was what Daniels needed to fall asleep.

I caress the top of her head and, in response, she frowns. Yet, her body soon relaxes as she whispers my name in her sleep. I immediately pause, as I don’t ~~know how to react~~ want to disturb her.

_Maybe David was right and I do have feelings for her. Because, holding her like this only brings me…_

**_Joy._**

I smile in amusement at the thought, not parting my gaze from her face. She looks so serene and pleased. Somehow, it’s a relief she’s not looking at me right now. But I can’t help it. I admire her honesty and her consideration for everyone.

_She cares about her crew; maybe even more than I do._

Still, what intrigues me is that she cares about me, and not in the same way everyone else does. I could be just another piece of equipment she’s responsible for, but she’s always looked at me differently. And now, she wants me to think of us as friends. I guess then it’s only fair. Of course I will continue taking orders from her and looking after her ─she’s still my coworker and a superior─; only that this time...

**_I’m looking forward to it._ **

When I suggested to her to rest for the next few hours, I offered to sit next to her. However, she was the one who said she’d rest better if I hugged her and let her hear my heartbeats.

After all she’s been through, what was I supposed to do?

I immediately complied, of course. And I regret nothing. As long as she had a good night’s sleep…

“Relax,” I said when she was drowsy; “you’ll need all your strength and focus in the morning. You’ve already done all you could do. All you can do now is waiting; so, why not use this time wisely to recharge?”

“You win, Walter,” she said in response with a yawn; closing her eyes.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Daniels,” I added, stroking the back of her hand. Once her breathing and heartbeats had subsided I wrapped my arms around her and whispered: “You’re safe. I’m here; I’m not leaving you.” She smiled at me, then, and moved a bit to adjust her posture before she gave in. The side of her head and torso fully resting on my chest once she dozed off.

 

 

 

I estimate there are still about three and a half hours left before dawn. We were informed that by that time the storm will have weakened; which means Pilot Tennessee will have no trouble when landing in five more hours. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time for the team to regroup and leave this planet. My only concern is that David hasn’t come back yet.

Anyway, there’s plenty of time left for him and the crew to reunite. Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole are already resting in the main hall with me and Daniels, and everyone else is free to spend the rest of the night doing as they please as long as they return on time.

I look up at the skylight as the rain lessens, and I note that the stars are now visible. A few heavy clouds still linger in the night sky and the wind blows furiously, but the sound of the rain is gone as the storm slowly dies.

It’s this abrupt silence what wakes the security officers on the other side of the chamber. And they look a bit dazed once they see me with Daniels under the same blanket, yet they say nothing about it.

“Mmmm? When did you get…?” Private Cole asks, rubbing his eyes, but he’s interrupted by his superior:

“How long have I slept, Walter?”

“It’s been an hour and forty-nine minutes since Daniels and I came back,” I say in a soft voice, trying not to wake up Daniels. “You were already asleep then, Private,” I reply to the first man. “And you, Sergeant,” I address the second one, “…fell asleep twelve minutes after we arrived. That’s an hour and thirty-seven minutes, sir,” I state when seeing his confusion.

“I know that, thank you. I was just surprised it took me so little time.”

“It was to be expected. It’s been an extenuating day,” I comment.

“Any news from Oram and Rose?” He asks.

“Nothing since last time you asked, sir,” I explain.

“Did I miss something?” Private Cole now inquires.

“Captain Oram called about two hours ago. Daniels and Walter heard the call as they were still outside,” Sergeant Lopé explains. “From what they picked up…,” he looks at me to corroborate he got it right, “…Oram’s taken the last beast down and he’s located Rosenthal. Is that correct?”

I nod affirmatively and remark:

“Yes, sir; and Daniels also informed them of our rescue details. We have confirmation of it. The signal may have been too weak and constantly interrupted to understand most part of the message before we lost contact again, but Daniels and I managed to hear that, and that the two of them were on their way back. We, however, couldn’t tell if it’d take them minutes or hours to arrive here.”

“Hmm… And neither of them has returned yet,” the private comments. “This planet’s weather and this building’s structure are tricky, but I wouldn’t assume they’re lost… If you say there was a heavy interference and you lost contact, it means they’re too far away or not using the correct frequency band.” He takes his eyes off me to look at his superior with concern. “Wouldn’t Rosenthal remind him to try different frequencies?” And, seeing his scowl, the private adds: “Then something’s off.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” the head of the security team replies, trying previously designated radio channels without success.

“Daniel has been doing the same thing since we lost contact, Sergeant. And I kept checking every channel after she fell asleep,” I state. “Still, we haven’t heard of them again.”

“We better go inspect, then,” the officer commands, taking his rifle.

“Yes, sir,” Private Cole replies, imitating him.

“You stay and protect Daniels until we come back,” Sergeant Lopé instructs and I nod. “Before I dozed off, you pointed out their possible location; didn’t you?”

“The Captain mentioned the chamber where the beast’s corpse is,” I answer. “Close to the one where they found drinkable water the first time he and Private Rosenthal went to inspect the building.”

“Do you think they’re still there?” The private asks him.

“No; but it’s a good place to start searching for them,” the man explains. “Keep checking the main channels, Walter; we’ll be constantly informing you what we find. And wake Daniels up if anything arises. Send a distress signal to the Covenant if we ain’t back by dawn.”

“I will, Sergeant,” I respond as they leave the main hall.

And just like that, it’s me and Daniels all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short chapter, but I had to post Walter's POV before next chapter which is about David's POV. It will be far longer than this one, I promise. It should be ready before next month ends and that means monthly updates are back!
> 
> Thank you for all the new kudos and bookmarks! Knowing people likes what I write is what keeps me updating.


	10. The deeper you dig… [David’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When curiosity gets the better of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does David want from the captain?  
>  What does he think of him?  
>  Is David hidding something?  
>  Let's see...

  
“Where are you taking me, David?” The captain hisses when we reach an entirely different structure in the deepest levels of the building: An ─even by this planet’s scale standards─ oversized dark vault surrounded with several big, imposing, black gates.

I catch the captain’s eyes widening at the open space and new architectural style of this gargantuan hall; which resembles the dreadnought in which Elizabeth and I arrived more than the usual archaic, plain, stone-like structures on this planet. And so, I politely reply:

“To a place where your questions can be answered, sir.” And, nonchalantly looking to the ceiling, I inform him: “This is the best place to try to contact your crew. Despite the distance, only those forgotten broken ships stationed under the plaza stand between us and them.”

The man’s jaw drops as soon as he acknowledges tons of defective alien spaceships and rocks sit above us, on the upper levels. He takes the hint, though, and he tries to contact the Covenant’s company once more:

“CHARLIE ONE. CHARLIE ONE. This is CHARLIE TWO. Come in. Over.”

Luckily, this time someone does answer his call after a few seconds:

 _“…Is that you?!”_ A distant, distorted woman’s voice asks. It’s the only remaining female in the group; the one Walter cares so much about. “-Is is –ARLIE... This is CHARLIE EIGHT. Go Ahead...”

“Daniels, listen,” he says trying to make himself heard over the radial interference. “I’ve been trying to contact anyone for a while now but no one answers. Where are you? Over,” he inquires, but it is impossible to understand the woman’s response. “I can’t hear you, but listen. I need you to inform the rest of the crew and the Covenant that I found Rosenthal. I repeat. I found Rosenthal’s...” The stressed man takes a few seconds to breathe in and out, making Daniels think that was the whole message.

_“Copy, -LIE TWO. Glad to hear so. Is… -enthal with you, then? Over.”_

At this, the man lowers his gaze before continuing:

“Negative. She…  She’s gone. I found her body near the chamber we found. The one with the rainwater fountain…,” he explains in an agitated voice. “I’m with David now. We’re going deeper into this…, this damn building until I find some answers. I’ll be back in a few hours; so, most likely, we won’t be able to communicate until then. Over.”

 _“…-Ay again?”_ Daniels asks, shocked. And after a few seconds, she adds: _“…You sure… is dead?”_

“She’s gone, Danny,” he says as if trying to convince himself about it. “I mean… Affirmative,” he says with a sad yet stern voice. “One of those monsters found a way in and attacked her in the same chamber where we refilled our water bottles.” He sighs; shakes his head and looks up. “But, I took care of it. Repeat. I took care of the monster. There shouldn’t be more of them. The area should be secured.” He now sounds like the confident leader he is supposed to be. “Do you copy? Tell Lopé and Cole both Rosenthal and that demoniac creature are dead. Tell Lopé and Cole to check the perimeter and secure it. That’s an order. Over.”

On the other side of the radio, Daniels replies affirmatively. Though, I barely hear what she says next. Let alone the captain, who offers me his earpiece and looks at me as if asking me to interpret the different noises coming from the device.

All this time, he has been firmly holding his rifle in my direction. Still, I have refused to show any concern. I am well aware this is personal. He does not trust me and I should not trust him either. Had a human or maybe even Walter been his guide, the man wouldn’t be pointing his gun at them; even if it was empty, as it is right now.

_Did it really not occur to him to take Rosenthal’s ammunition with him?_

I snicker; although, low enough he cannot hear me. We might have our differences, but I tolerate the man. Only a fool or a truly inquisitive man would comply as easily as he does.

Either way, I like that.

“I believe she’s repeating what you just said, sir,” I state, not taking the device, and I resume walking. “I know this is not an optimal place to have this conversation, but it’s the only place in this structure where the radio signals reach the surface.”

He nods and considers following me, but then we hear:

_“…Contact with the Covenant... Tennessee’s coming… morning. Do you think… return to… -efore sunrise? Where are…? Over.”_

Neither of us can contain our excitement as our eyes meet. This time, there is no need for me to interpret the message for him.

_They’re returning to their ship._  
_And I’m going with them._  
_No._  
_First, I must make sure of it._

“Let’s hurry, then,” I offer with genuine delight. “I mean, if we want to be back before sunrise.”

The man hesitates for a second before agreeing with me. He then tries to answer the woman’s questions as I start walking again, crossing the hall. He stays, waiting for her to confirm she got his message. Even then, I do not stop for him. After a minute of radial silence, I know the woman is not contacting the captain. She probably didn't hear his response in the first place.

I see the man glaring at me from afar with distrust when I finally turn my head for a second. Yet, I pay no special attention to him as I step in front of the gates. They are enormous and as grandiose as the hall itself. I push one of them open, and it is only then that I feel the man’s hurried steps approaching as if he was afraid I was leaving him behind.

I smile, stepping into the new room.

 

 

 

This dark area is slightly smaller than the hall, but it certainly looks enormous to the man. Dozens of Engineers would have been able to comfortably work in here. And the captain seems to deduce this while looking at the consoles spread across the vast room, because, when he finally reaches me, he asks me what _they_ used this space for.

The massive, alien-like, central structure under a bright, blue hologram of the cosmos catches his attention. For long seconds, he cannot take his eyes off it. Yet, he halts and looks exasperated once he realises I have no answer to his question:

“I’m afraid I haven’t discovered this chamber’s purpose just yet, Captain. Isn’t it intriguing that this technology is far more advanced than what one can find in the buildings on the surface?” I ask, walking around the console in the centre of the room. “After all the time I’ve spent here, I couldn’t help to ask myself whether the civilization that built this structure was the same one that erected the city on the surface. I have this theory that this room was actually _engineered_ for individuals who had a special role in their society. Maybe, even, it was created by an entirely different one.”

The man scoffs and states that he does not believe me I comprehend the mechanism of the dreadnought enough to pilot it but, then again, I haven’t figured out what these devices were designed for:

“This place looks like the crashed ship we found… The one transmitting the signal that brought us here in the first place,” he comments, ignoring my theories. “One way or another, they must have a similar purpose…”

“It is similar machinery, but not the same”, I turn to him to clarify. “About the spacecraft you found…, while I did get to successfully operate it when bringing Doctor Shaw with me, in all these years I’ve only gotten to make these consoles beep and make some lights turn on without major findings.”

“Maybe if I just…,” he murmurs to himself.

I stop then and frown when I spot him with a hand on one of the desk-like structures emerging from the floor; randomly pressing a few buttons with confidence as if he knew what he is doing.

“You may try, sir, but I doubt it’ll do any good,” I add in a dejected tone.

As expected, the captain’s actions make no difference. And he does not seem to enjoy this.

“I don’t need your sarcastic comments or suggestions, David,” he spits this with disdain and withdraws from the consoles, not parting his eyes from me.

_How predictable: He masks his worries and frustrations by being rude to me._

I grin and, taking a final turn before standing in front of the next gigantic door, I observe:

“You don’t think much of synthetics, do you?”

“I like a machine that does its job and doesn’t talk back,” the man hisses. “What I like in a machine is the equivalent of a smart hammer; not _a smartass.”_

I breathe in.

In the several decades I have existed, I have concluded it is a widespread, cultural problem ─practically inherent to humankind as a whole─ to despise what they are not familiar with. Whenever humans see something new, something unusual, they loathe it since they are afraid of the unknown; of what they cannot control. On the other hand, humans are unnerved by the idea of anything that is too similar yet not one of them; as if it was going to replicate them and steal their identity, their lives or purpose. They constantly fight each other because of this. They can find the slightest of differences in others ─they are capable of making them up─ in order to justify their cruelty. And still, animals are more practical: they do not hate as they only know fear. If beasts ever react violently they do so out of instinct; not because it is an acquired behaviour. They attack because there is indeed something threatening their lives, not just because they fear something may wound their pride.

 _Beautiful._  
_Cold._  
_Perfect in every way._

I gulp as I remember what my creator once stated of me.

 _Not a real boy._  
_Disturbing._  
_Uncanny._

I sigh and I realise there’s no need to think about what others think of me. The unsatisfied expression on the captain’s face making me re-think my next course of actions. After all, I cannot blame him for being just a man.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I nod, giving him a kind smile as I hold the door open and I encourage him to continue. “Now, please, Captain. Enlightenment lies this way.”

At these words, he hurries his steps; and, again, he walks behind me for a while like a shadow.

 

 

 

The next chamber we step in is another place I have made my home; and it has a more familiar air to it since it resembles the other rooms on the surface. Here I keep my work and trophies. Most of them crafted by my own hand; while the other ones are remains of specimens that, albeit being failed experiments of nature, I do treasure. Nevertheless, my most promising project rests unperturbed somewhere else.

_If he behaves, he might get to see it._

The captain looks taken aback once he enters the room. It is not its design what causes this, but what it contains: Being in an alien environment surrounded by actual extra-terrestrials ─either dissected or stuffed; extinct and certainly dead, yet imposing and quite intimidating─ seems to momentarily take the remaining courage out of the man. For a change, he aims at their bodies instead, and then he adjusts his rifle in his hands to instinctively behold the vessels on the shelves; although never fully taking his eyes off me.

“As you see,” I humbly begin to narrate as he continues shifting his gaze from me to the carefully categorised dead bodies around us. “I’ve become a bit of an amateur zoologist over the years. Just a dabbler, though. It's in my nature to keep busy, I suppose.” I give him an idea why the room is decorated the way it is and what has kept me occupied lately before telling him _‘_ _what’s going on_ _’_ as he demanded earlier.

Surprisingly, he walks past me; nonchalantly hanging his weapon on his shoulder in order to rest his hands on a table covered with laboratory instruments and notes. A sudden, subtle intake of breath from his part catches my attention as he notices all the dedication I put into this little curio room.

“You really made all this, David?” Captain Oram asks, marvelling at my drawings and descriptions of each specimen displayed. “Why?”

“With all the time I had, anyone with the slightest scientific interest would have studied the native flora and fauna the way I did. Only that the pathogen made it all far more interesting, and I ended up entertaining myself the past decade with these fascinating creatures,” I add, ceremoniously extending my arms as to present my beautiful bestiary to him.

The fact the captain approaches me and stares at the main line of dead bodies before us as if trying to find a connection between them and the animals he knows reveals something very personal about him. His firm steps; stern face; curious eyes, and wide-open mouth speak volumes. As strange as it is, his actions and expression now are those of a man who might still fear the unknown, but he does not necessarily hate it. He respects it and appreciates it.

I should know. I’ve seen that look countless times.  
Sometimes, I still see it on my face.

_If only he hadn’t murdered the last of those magnificent creatures…_

I allow Captain Oram to look with awe upon the uniqueness of the bizarre exhibition. His wonder is patent. And I know he is thinking about the majestic, white creature we left behind with the private’s corpse; probably imagining how it would look next to the other beasts displayed in the chamber or, most likely,  dissected on one of the tables behind us.

He gulps; knitting his brow when looking back at me.

“I would’ve done the same, I think,” he adds, making me smile. “But these… things. They’re so similar to...” He pauses.

“The creatures that decimated your crew?” I suggest.

“Yes.” He gulps again. “How is that possible?”

I relate to his curiosity.

_I can respect someone with such thirst for knowledge._

Before I realise what I am doing, I find myself explaining with a subtle ─yet honest─ smile on my face:

“The pathogen took so many forms. It was extremely mutable. Fiendishly inventive, in fact.” I pick up a harmless ampoule; and gazing its lethal content in wonderment, I add: “The original liquid… atomized to particles when exposed to the air... reacted with all animals on the surface.” I gently place the vial with the dark goo back on its container. “All these little creatures share a common link, except for those never entering in contact with the pathogen.” I point to a drawing of the Engineers’ anatomy and then to the main attraction in the room: a skinned Engineer posing as Michelangelo’s David. “Ten years on, all that remains outside of the original virus are these gorgeous beasts.” Moving to the next table, I state: “Patience is everything. From the eggs came these parasites. Shock troops of the genetic assault waiting for a host; entering the host; rewriting the DNA; and, ultimately, producing these unviable unions.” I affectionately pat the ovoid head of one of the smallest specimens, which, surprisingly, looks very similar to the ones captain and crew met this very night.

A tense and disturbingly too familiar silence invades the room as he takes note of this fact.

“You… engineered… these,” he asserts.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop, Captain. I began a bit of genetic experimentation of my own. Some crossbreeding, hybridizing... What have you.”

“These ones,” he repeats as if asking for confirmation.

“Yes, Captain. Wouldn’t you’ve done the same had you had the chance?” I inquire and I see him frowning as he both accepts my answer and considers his. Yet, the glow in his eyes tells me all I need to know. And so, I grin. “You are a scientist too; are you not, sir?” I practically state, already knowing the answer.

“Chief Science Officer, in fact,” he replies, proud of the title. He even smiles, but then he blinks and scowls. “Did you say _‘too’?”_

“I did, Captain. I was Science Officer aboard the Prometheus. And no; I had nothing to do with the creatures that… slaughtered half your crew, sir. I can guarantee so. Sometimes, nature just manages to best our greatest works,” I admit.

We remain in solemn stillness as the realization hits him:

“I didn’t mean…,” he utters as an unspoken apology.

“No offence taken, Captain,” I gently reply and excuse his reaction before changing the subject: “Now, as a fellow scientist, I can tell you’ll find what I am about to show you of considering interest. Even revolutionary.” I smile at his now flickering eyes, catching his full interest. “All you have to do is open your mind a little. Come,” I invite him. “This is what I wanted to show you: My successes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering about the "names" and numbers Oram and Daniels are using, _CHARLIE_ is the standard way to mention the letter C in a radial conversation and (in this fic) it stands for _Covenant_. On the other hand, the numbers they use correspond to the original number of the crew that was part of the security team, plus the rest of the crew that descended to the planet. By this logic (and this headcanon), Lopè gets to be number 1 because he is in charge of said team, and the Captain is number 2 only because of his rank. Since Daniels is the next in command, she gets to be number 8 right after the two of them and the other five security officers.
> 
> In this story, this hierarchy matters only when it comes to tactics and security. Meaning that members of the security team have the authority to give orders to the rest of the crew if the situation is deemed critical (as it is at the moment). For the rest of the mission (this is, under normal circumstances) these numbers are no more than a code to identify each other when using the radio (and the ranks are the same than those shown in the movie on everyone's forehead when awakening from cryosleep).


	11. Déjà vu. [Walter’s POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is off, and it shouldn't feel so familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: graphic depiction of a death scene.

 

 

It doesn’t take the security officers much time to locate the chamber Captain Oram mentioned in his last call; and they soon let me know via radio. Until now, every few minutes they’ve been informing me of everything they’ve seen.

 _“Walter?”_ The head of the security team’s stern, yet trembling voice meets my ear. _“Are you still there with Daniels?”_

“Affirmative, Sergeant,” I replay, looking to her sleeping figure under the thermo-isolating covers we share. “She’s right here, sir; and still resting.”

 _“Wake her up.”_ he commands. _“She needs to hear this.”_

“Wilco. Please, stand by, sir.”

I do as instructed and I gently caress her back. When she moves closer to me, I carefully lift her face with my fingertips before nearly brushing her ear with my lips. It almost pains me interrupting her sleep ─by her curved-up lips and body language, she’s probably having a pleasant dream─, but the situation calls for it. So, not to startle her, but loud enough to still effectively wake her, I whisper her name until she finally opens her eyes.

“Wha... What is it?” She mumbles; hiding a yawn as she buries her smiling face against my chest.

“Sergeant Lopé wants to talk to you,” I explain, patting her back as I withdraw a bit and let the blankets uncover us.

“Walter!” She then utters, looking straight into my eyes and retreating her hand from my waist. She appears to be a bit startled before acknowledging my words: “Right.”

“He’s on the radio,” I continue; handing her the device, which she immediately takes with a nod of her head. “He and Private Cole were looking for Captain Oram and Private Rosenthal. They haven’t come back yet.”

“Dan? What happened?” She speaks into the mic, still blinking more than normal, as she imitates my posture and rests on her side. “Lopé; it’s me, Daniels.  Go ahead. Over,” she adds, remembering some radio etiquette.

 _“Are you sure this is the room Oram mentioned?”_ The chief security officer asks with a hurried voice he hadn’t use since we abandoned the landing area along with the bodies of his crewmates and husband. _“The one with a fountain and vegetation?”_

“Affirmative. It sounds like the one Rose and Chris described…,” Daniels replies, now completely conscious and alert, as she sits up. I mimic her, allowing the blankets to keep the lower part of our bodies covered. “That’s where the creature’s body should be. Did you find it?”

_“Affirmative, but that’s not the only body in there. Repeat. The creature’s body is not the only body in the room. And it looks it's from our crew…”_ He utters a swearing remark. _“We’re entering now…”_

With these words, the already worried look on Daniels’ face turns into a doleful one. Her narrowed eyes relax for half a second, only to widen as her brows arch and remain in a permanent frown. The sight of her pursed lips tensing even more does not go unnoticed either, and I try to offer some comfort by resting my hand on her shoulder. A second cadaver is definitively not what we were expecting the security officers to report; and it’s always terrible to hear of another crewmember’s death.

Before any of us can acknowledge the message, we overhear Private Cole exclaiming on the radio:

_“Oh, for God’s sake! It was a slaughter!”_

_“Daniels?”_ The sergeant soon asks, skeptical. _“Did you hear both Rosenthal and the captain in that call?”_

Daniels takes a moment to carefully reply, as if lives depended on her answer:

“Negative... It was just him.” She looks at me, asking for confirmation; and so, I nod. “He said he’d killed the beast and that he and Rose were coming over…”

 _“That can’t be possible,”_ he interrupts her. _“This corpse is clearly more than three hours old.”_

Daniels’s surprised gaze connects with mine, and neither of us dares to say a word. The dreadful news the man shares with us implies that we either misunderstood the Captain’s words, or that he tricked us. The second body must belong to either Captain Oram or Private Rosenthal…

_The latter, certainly, given the time of death that Sergeant Lopé estimated._

“Fuck!” Daniels curses, rising to her feet. “What happened to her?” She immediately demands to know, coming to the same conclusion than I. Her sharp voice, grimmer than ever, finally breaking the silence. I can tell just by her gloomy expression that she already griefs the private’s loss.

The security officers have to take turns to portray the horrific sight before them:

Given the details they find in the place, it seems Private Rosenthal was caught off guard. It looks like she was attacked while she was about to tend her lesions. Her weapons and the content of her personal pack are still neatly placed next to the water source. And in it, Private Cole describes, floats her severed head. Several bites were taken from the rest of her still-not-cold corpse; which lies nearby, all covered in blood. The evident purplish-red patches of settled blood in the areas of her body closer to the floor ─so typical of _livor mortis_ , Sergeant Lopé observes─ contrast with the rest of her ─even paler than usual─ pallid skin; adding an eerier look to the gory scene.

As the men depict it, it becomes clear that Private Rosenthal didn’t stand a chance. Her standard-issue rifle and personal gun remain untouched, with the same amount of ammunition than last time we counted it.

Her alien attacker, on the other hand, suffered a slower death. It lies on its side, facing the far end of the chamber in what resembles a fetal position, not far from the fountain and the private’s remains. As soon as the security officers got into the chamber, they explain, they noted several entry and exit wounds across the beast’s cadaver. Logically, only Captain Oram or David could've fired the lethal shots.

At first glance, the men find no sign of either the captain or the android. But, after inspecting the death scene for a while, new pieces of information catch the security officers’ attention:

 _“There are some puddles of gore on the floor between Rosenthal’s head and the rest of her body that are probably hers. And there’s a trace of blood, just a few droplets, at the entrance. But, that… That’s not human blood,”_ Private Cole comments. _“What is it?”_

 _“The same pale, rosy fluid that leaked from the demon’s wounds,”_ the sergeant remarks. _“It’s all over the floor and in part of the walls too. Observe. Wherever there are scratches, its milky blood is there too. Hmm… Yes…, this thing definitively made these marks while trying to get away… Away from the entrance. Look in here. Its blood is over Rose’s.”_

 _“If Captain Oram shot the creature, he did it after it killed Rosenthal,”_ his subordinate observes. _“And he shot from the entrance.”_

“Are you saying that Chris killed the beast and he left just like that? Without reporting Rose’s death!?” Daniels inquires, not waiting for the men to finish their message. “It doesn’t make sense,” she continues. “Besides, what he said earlier… He spoke as if he was with her. And it was just three hours ago.”

“He could have been with David,” I offer as an explanation, close to Daniels’ ear and the mic; so the officers can hear me too. “That’s another explanation for him speaking in plural. He may have reported the death of both Private Rosenthal and the beast but we thought he was repeating the information. A plausible misunderstanding, considering the poor quality of the signal. That would explain why the captain wasn’t reminded of trying different channels when attempting to contact us.” I feel Daniels’ gaze on me; and so, I look at her when I apologetically state what she refuses to believe: “It means, Private Rosenthal passed long before Captain Oram made that call.”

 _“It makes sense,”_ Sergeant Lopé replies. _“But it doesn’t explain why he left or why we haven't heard of him.…”_

 _“Come and look, Sarge. There are barefoot, human prints too.”_ We overhear the private pointing out. _“Right next; under; and over the other footprints.”_

“David…” Daniels murmurs.

_That would explain his absence. If he was in the scene too, then he’s probably with the captain. But, Chief Security Officer Lopé is right... Being that chamber only minutes away from to the main hall, it means something else happened since neither Captain Oram nor David returned here as soon as the private's corpse was found._

As I’m thinking this, a new finding in the scene raises further questions when the chief security officer examines the chamber’s floor in detail:

 _“Hmm,”_ he grunts. _“There’s something else, over all this mess and the demon’s pawprints. And it doesn’t look like its blood. The glossy trail starts under the beast’s corpse… Help me turn it over, Cole.”_

We hear some rustling as the men move the cadaver to have a better view to its front.

 _“What’s that!?”_ Private Cole suddenly shouts.

“What is it!?” Daniels asks, not waiting for the officers to tell us what they see.

 _“Well, that’s no exit wound…,”_ the sergeant retorts. _“Oh, no… Daniels, Walter, I need you to call to the Covenant. This is worse than we thought. Repeat. Contact the Covenant. Over.”_

“Roger that. Wilco. Care to explain? Over,” Daniels soon replies and we’re met with a tense silence. We have to wait a few seconds to hear anything on the radio after catching a muffled lament.

 _“One of the holes in the beast’s chest looks as if it was made from the inside out. And there’s something like a broken, glistening, meat sack coming out of it,”_ the private quickly clarifies as his superior is rendered speechless. _“There’s something eerily familiar about this.”_

“How so?” Daniels asks for more details, probably as curious as I.

 _“It reminds me of the way this thing got out of…,”_ he continues with a voice just as shaking as Sergeant Lopé’s a moment ago. _“It reminds me of how this beast was born. I’m sorry, sir, but it looks just like the bloody sack this monster left on Sergeant Hallet when it emerged from his throat.”_

 _“Ugh, right. That’s exactly what it reminded me of,”_ the head of the security team replies, more nauseated than depressed for reliving the scene of his husband loss.

“Wait a second, what did you say?” Daniels asks, alarmed. “Is there another monster running free.., inside the building?”

_“There’s no way to be sure, but maybe this means there’s a newborn beast on the loose. Like…, its spawn. I don’t know. What do you think, sir?”_

_“Well… Actually, I can’t say that’s what happened,”_ the man declares, _“but I can’t say it didn’t happen either. We better prepare and locate Oram before this new demon finds him…, or us, if there is even one.”_

I catch sight of Daniels gulping, already checking our surroundings with a quick glance. I immediately locate the closest loaded rifles and I hand her one of the weapons. She silently thanks me with one of her tender grins; and I just nod with a smile on my lips before directing my attention back to the voices on the radio; not parting my eyes from any hiding place this hypothetical creature may use.

 _“Hey, Daniels…,”_ the man continues, _“Cole and I will keep looking for the captain. You and Walter report this to the Covenant, and keep trying to contact him. Walter, this is an order: secure the perimeter and don’t let that thing board the cargo lift.”_

Daniels and I notify Sergeant Lopé we will comply with his commands. And, wasting no time, she checks both her rifle and ammo as she states:

“Listen to me. We gotta get out of here. I’m gonna contact the ship; get them to launch as soon as they can while you find Oram. Keep your comm open. Be back here in…,” she checks the time, “an hour. Repeat. We meet here, in the meeting point, with or without Oram in one hour. We need to gather and prep the gear before sunrise and before Tee gets here.”

_“Copy. Wilco. We’ll be there in one hour. Out.”_

She’s already walking to the roof when the call ends. And, looking back for an instant once she notices I haven’t moved, she asks me:

“Aren't you coming?” Trying to mask her concerns, she resumes walking and adds with the same solemn tone of voice she’s been using in the past minutes: “You can start securing the perimeter outside while protecting me and the only thing that will keep us in contact with the Covenant.” However, I can still sense her trepidation.

I raise an eyebrow. And for a fraction of a second that she probably can’t register, I’m out of words.

She, then, pauses and turns around; seeking my face with pleading eyes. This time, in a more gentle tone she confesses:

“Please, Walter. It won’t be the same without you.”

I sigh. How could I leave her alone in this unnerving situation? And so, taking the other rifle and more ammunition with me, I decide to follow her.

It is my duty to protect her, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited (27/Sep/2018):  
> My apologies for not updating yet. I really thought I'd had time to post a new chapter by the 17th of September, but it'll take a bit longer. I've been quite bussy with my job and university, so I haven't finished next chapter yet. I don't want to promise anything since I don't really know when I'll have the time to complete it, but rest assured this will be the next fic I'll update (hopefully, in about ten or fifteen days).
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
